The outline of mythology: The age of fable; The age of chivalry; Legends of Charlemagne

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THE OUTLINE OF
MYTHOLOGY

Clje age of JFable

Cfje aige of ai:f)ibalrj>

Hesenbs; of Cfjarlemagne

BY

THOMAS BULFINCH

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME

REVISED AND ENLARGED, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS CORPORATION
Publishers New York

PiiI>Iished by arrangement with Thomas Y. Crowell Co.

Copyright, 1913,
By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY.

Printed in the United Statics of America

PUBLISHERS' PREFACE

No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be con-
sidered complete without some notice of the American
scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care
it stands as a perpetual monument. "The Age of Fable"
has come to be ranked with older books like "Pilgrim's
Progress," "Gulliver's Travels," "The Arabian Nights,"
"Robinson Crusoe," and five or six other productions of
world-wide renown as a work with which every one
must claim some acquaintance before his education can
be called really complete. Many readers of the present
edition will probably recall coming in contact with the
work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt
discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous
bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their
minds since those early years. Yet to the majority of
this great circle of readers and students the name Bul-
finch in itself has no significance.

Thomas Bulfinch was a native of Boston, Mass., where
he was born in 1796. His boyhood was spent in that
city, and he prepared for college in the Boston schools.
He finished his scholastic training at Han-ard College,
and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher
in his home city. For a long time later in life he was
employed as an accountant in the Boston Merchants'
Bank. His leisure time he used for further pursuit of
the classical studies which he had begun at Harvard,
and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the re-
sults of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young
or busy readers. The plan he followed in this work, to
give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in
the Author's Preface.

Bulfinch died in 1867, with the following list of books
to his credit: "Hebrew Lyrical History," 1853; "The

jii

iv PUBLISHERS' PREFACE

Age of Fable," First Edition, 1855 ; "The Age of Chiv-
alry," 1858; "The Boy Inventor," 1860; "Legends of
Charlemagne, or Romance of the Middle Ages," 1863;
"Poetry of the Age of Fable," 1863; "Oregon and El-
dorado, or Romance of the Rivers," 1860.

In this complete edition of his mythological and leg-
endary lore "The Age of Fable," "The Age of Chivalry,"
and "Legends of Charlemagne" are included. Scrupulous
care has been taken to follow the original text of Bul-
finch, but attention should be called to some additional
sections which have been inserted to add to the rounded
completeness of the work, and which the publishers be-
lieve would meet with the sanction of the author him-
self, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but
simply carrying it out in more complete detail. The
section on Northern Mythology has been enlarged by a
retelling of the epic of the "Nibelungen Lied," together
with a summary of Wagner's version of the legend in
his series of music-dramas. Under the head of "Hero
Myths of the British Race" have been included out-
lines of the stories of Beowulf, Cuchulain, Hereward
the Wake, and Robin Hood. Of the verse extracts
which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have
been added from literature which has appeared since
Bulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely
to quote had he personally supervised the new edition.

Finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and,
indeed, remade. All the proper names in the work
have been entered, with references to the pages where
they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of
each has been given. Thus what was a mere list of
names in the original has been enlarged into a small
classical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped
will prove valuable for reference purposefs not necessar-
ily connected with "The Age of Fable."

Acknowledgments are due the writings of Dr. Oliver
Huckel for information on the point of Wagner's ren-
dering of the Nibelungen legend, and M. I. Ebbutt's
authoritative volume on "Flero Myths and Legends
of the British Race," from which much of the informa-
tion concerning the British heroes has been obtained.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

If no other knowledge deserves to be called useful
but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to
raise our station in society, then Mythology has no claim
to the appellation. But if that which tends to make us
happier and better can be called useful then we claim
that epithet for our subject. For Mythology is the
handmaid of literature ; and literature is one of the best
allies of virtue and promoters of happiness.

Without a knowledge of mythology much of the ele-
gant literature of our own language cannot be under-
stood and appreciated. When Byron calls Rome "the
Niobe of nations," or says of Venice, "She looks a Sea-
Cybele fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of
one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid
and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which
are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. Milton
abounds in similar allusions. The short poem "Comus"
contains more than thirty such, and the ode "On the
Morning of the Nativity" half as many. Through
"Paradise Lost" they are scattered profusely. This is
one reason why we often hear persons by no means il-
literate say that they cannot enjoy Milton. But were
these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the
easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry
of Milton which has appeared to them "harsh and
crabbed" would be found "musical as is Apollo's lute."
Our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets,
from Spenser to Longfellow, will show how general has
been the practice of borrowing illustrations from myth-
ology.

The prose writers also avail themselves of the same
source of elegant and suggestive illustration. One can
hardly take up a number of the "Edinburgh" or "Quar-

vi AUTHOR'S PREFACE

terly Review" without meeting with instances. In Ma-
caulay's article on Milton there are twenty such.

But how is mythology to be taught to one who does
not learn it through the medium of the languages of
Greece and Rome? To devote study to a species of learn-
ing which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete
faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a
practical age like this. The time even of the young is
claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that
little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere
fancy.

But may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be
acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations?
We reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory
course; and these very translations require some pre-
vious knowledge of the subject to make them intelli-
gible. Let any one who doubts it read the first page
of the "^neid," and see what he can make of "the hatred
of Juno," the "decree of the Parcse," the "judgment of
Paris," and the "honors of Ganymede," without this
knowledge.

Shall we be told that answers to such queries may
be found in notes, or by a reference to the Classical
Dictionary? We reply, the interruption of one's read-
ing by either process is so annoying that most readers
prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than
submit to it. Moreover, such sources give us only the
dry facts without any of the charm of the original nar-
rative ; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of
its poetry? The story of Ceyx and Halcyone, which
fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines
in the best (Smith's) Classical Dictionary; and so of
others. /

Our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by
telling the stories of mythology in such a manner as to
make them a source of amusement. We have endeav-
ored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient
authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred
to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference.
Thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as
a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm

AUTHOR'S PREFACE vii

of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge
of an important branch of education. The index at the
end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make
it a Classical Dictionary for the parlor.

Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and
Heroes" are derived from Ovid and Virgil. They are
not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion,
poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive
reading. Neither are they in verse, as well for other
reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully
under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is
impossible. The attempt has been made to tell the stories
in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in
the thoughts and is separable from the language itself,
and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to
the altered form.

The Northern mythological stories are copied with
some abridgment from Mallet's "Northern Antiquities."
These chapters, with those on Oriental and Egyptian
mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject,
though it is believed these topics have not usually
been presented in the same volume with the classical
fables.

The poetical citations so freely introduced are ex-
pected to answer several valuable purposes. They will
tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they
will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of
the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with
many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most
frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and con-
versation.

Having chosen mythology as connected zmth litera-
ture for our province, we have endeavored to omit noth-
ing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to
find occasion for. Such stories and parts of stories as
are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given.
But such stories are not often referred to, and if they
occasionally should be, the English reader need feel
no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them.

Our work is not for the learned, nor for the theolo-
gian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of

viii AUTHOR'S PREFACE

English literature, of either sex, who wishes to com-
prehend the allusions so frequently made by public
speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which
occur in polite conversation.

In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has
endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning-
to the English reader, by presenting the stories cf Pagan
mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. In "King
Arthur and His Knights" and "The Mabinogeon" the
attempt has been made to treat in the same way the
stories of the second "age of fable," the age which
witnessed the dawn of the several states of Modern
Europe.

It is believed that this presentation of a literature
which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of
our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without
benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it
may afford. The tales, though not to be trusted for
their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of man-
ners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners
and modes of thinking of an age are a more important
part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, gen-
erally leading to no result. Besides this, the literature
of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to
which modern poets frequently resort. The Italian poets,
Dante and Ariosto, the English, Spenser, Scott, and Ten-
nyson, and our own Longfellow and Lowell, are ex-
amples of this.

These legends are so connected with each other, so
consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly
individualized in Arthur, Launcelot, and their compeers,
and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and inven-
tion, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's pur-
pose as the legends of the Greek and Roman mytholog>\
And if every well-educated young person is expected to
know the story of the Golden Fleece, why is the quest
of the Sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? Or if
an allusion to the shield of Achilles ought not to oass

AUTHOR'S PREFACE. ix

unapprehended, why should one to Excalibar, the famous
sword of Arthur?

"Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored,
With that terrific sword.
Which yet he brandishes for future war.
Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star."*

It is an additional recommendation of our subject, that
it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source
from which we sprung-. We are entitled to our full
share in the glories and recollections of the land of our
forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence.
The associations which spring from this source must be
fruitful of good influences ; among which not the least
valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associ-
ations afford to the American traveller when he visits
England, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned
localities.

The legends of Charlemagne and his peers are neces- ,
sary to complete the subject.

In an age when intellectual darkness enveloped West-
ern Europe, a constellation of brilliant writers arose in
Italy. Of these, Pulci (born in 1432). Roiardo (1434),
and Ariosto (1474} took for their subjects the romantic,
fables which had for many ages been transmitted in the
lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers.
These fables they arranged in order, adorned with the
emljellishments of fancy, amplified from their own in-
vention, and stamped with immortality. It may safely
be asserted that as long as civilization shall endure these
productions will retain their place among the most cher-
ished creations of human genius.

In "Stories of Gods and Heroes," "King Arthur and
His Knights" and "The Mabinogeon" the aim has been
to supply to the modern reader such knowledge of the
fables of classical and medineval literature as is needed to
render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading
and conversation. The "Legends of Charlemagne" is

' Wordsworth.

X AUTHOR'S PREFACE

intended to carry out the same design. Like the earli(
portions of the work, it aspires to a higher charact(
than that of a piece of mere amusement. It claims to t
useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects (
the productions of the great poets of Italy. Son
knowledge of these is expected of every well-educate
young person.
>-- in reading these romances, we cannot fail to obsen
C^how the primitive inventions have been used, again ar
again, by successive generations of fabulists. The Sin
of Ulysses is the prototype of the Siren of Orlando, ar
the character of Circe reappears in Alcina. The foui
tains of Love and Hatred may be traced to the story (
Cupid and Psyche; and similar effects produced by
magic draught appear in the tale of Tristram and Isoud
and, substituting a flower for the draught, in Shakspeare
"Midsummer Night's Dream." There are many oth
instances of the same kind which the reader will re
ognize without our assistance.

The sources whence we derive these stories are, fir;
the Italian poets named above; next, the "Romans <
Chevalerie" of the Comte de Tressan; lastly, certa
German collections of popular tales. Some chapte
have been borrowed from Leigh Hunt's Translatio
from the Italian Poets. It seemed unnecessary to (
over again what he had already done so well ; yet, (
the other hand, those stories could not be omitted fro
the series without leaving it incomplete.

Thomas Bulfinch.

F

CONTENTS

Xlll

CHAPTER

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.
XL.

XLI.

PAGE

Northern Mythology Valhalla The
Valkyrior 328

Thor's Visit to Jotunheim 3.37

The Death of Baldur The Elves
Runic Letters Skalds Iceland
Teutonic Mythology The Nibelun-
gen Lied Wagner's Nibelungen Ring 343

The Druids lona 358

KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

I. Introduction 367

II. The Mythical History of England ... 378

III. Merlin 389

IV. Arthur 394

V. Arthur (Continued) 405

VI. Sir Gawain 414

VII. Caradoc Briefbras; or, Caradoc with the

Shrunken Arm 418

VIII. Launcelot of the Lake 424

IX. The Adventure of the Cart 435

X. The Lady of Shalott 44i

XL Queen Guenever's Peril 445

XII. Tristram and Isoude 449

XIII. Tristram and Isoude (Continued) . . . 457

XIV. Sir Tristram's Battle with Sir Launcelot. 464
XV. The Round Table 467

XVI. Sir Palamedes 472

XVII. Sir Tristram 475

XVIII. Perceval 479

XIX. The Sangreal, or Holy Graal .... 486

XX. The Sangreal (Continued) 49^

XXI. The Sangreal (Continued) 497

XXII. Sir Agrivain's Treason 507

XXIII. Morte d'Arthur S'S

xiv CONTENTS

THE MABINOGEON

CHAPTER PAGE

Introductory Note 527

I. The Britons 529

II. The Lady of the Fountain ....... 534

III. The Lady of the Fountain (Continued) . . . 539

IV. The Lady of the Fountain (Continued) . . . 546
V. Geraint, the Son of Erbin 553

VI. Geraint, the Son of Erbin (Continued) . . . 564

VII. Geraint, the Son of Erbin (Continued) . . . 572

VIII. Pwyll, Prince of Dyved 583

IX. Branwen, the Daughter of Llyr 589

X. Manawyddan 597

XI. 'Kilwich and Olwen 608

XII. Kilwich and Olwen (Continued) . . . . . 620

XIII. Taliesin 626

HERO MYTHS OF THE BRITISH RACE

Beowulf 635

Cuchulain, Champion of Ireland 637

Hereward the Wake 641

Robin Hood 643

LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE

Introduction /. . . 647

The Peers, or Paladins 656

The Tournament 664

The Siege of Albracca 672

Adventures of Rinaldo and Orlando 683

The Invasion of France 693

The Invasion of France (Continued) 702

CONTENTS XV

PAGE

Bradamante and Rogero 712

Astolpho and the Enchantress 721

The Ore 'Ji2

Astolpho's Adventures continued, and Isabella's begun . 739

Medoro 745

Orlando Mad 753

Zerbino and Isabella 760

Astolpho in Abyssinia 769

The War in Africa "j-jj

Rogero and Bradamante 78S

The Battle of Roncesvalles 801

Rinaldo and Bayard 814

Death of Rinaldo 819

Huon of Bordeaux 825

Huon of Bordeaux (Continued) 832

Huon of Bordeaux (Continued) 842

Ogier, the Dane 848

Ogier, the Dane (Continued) 856

Ogier, the Dane (Continued) 863

Proverbial Expressions 873

List of Illustrative Passages Quoted from the

Poets 875

Index and Dictionary 877

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

The Archery Contest 625

Charlemagne 656

Charlemagne Receiving His Guests 657

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STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

The religions of ancient Greece and Rome are ex-
tinct. The so-called divinities of Olympus have not a
single worshipper among living men. They belong now
not to the department of theology, but to those of liter-
ature and taste. There they still hold their place, and
will continue to hold it, for they are too closely con-
nected with the finest productions of poetry and art,
both ancient and modern, to pass into oblivion.

We propose to tell the stories relating to them which
have come down to us from the ancients, and which are
alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. Our
readers may thus at the same time be entertained by
the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created,
and put in possession of information indispensable to
every one who would read with intelligence the elegant
literature of his own day.

In order to understand these stories, it will be neces-
sary to acquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure
of the universe which prevailed among the Greeks
the people from whom the Romans, and other nations
through them, received their science and religion.

The Greeks believed the earth to be flat and cir-
cular, their own country occupying the middle of it, the
central point being either Mount Olympus, the abode
of the gods, or Delphi, so famous for its oracle.

The circular disk of the earth was crossed from west
to east and divided into two equal parts by the Sea,
as they called the Mediterranean, and its continuation

1

2 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

the Euxine, the only seas with which they were ac-
quainted.

Around the earth flowed the River Ocean, its course
being from south to north on the western side of the
earth, and in a contrary direction on the eastern side.
It flowed in a steady, equable current, unvexed by storm
or tempest. The sea, and all the rivers on earth, re-
ceived their waters from it.

The northern portion of the earth was supposed to
be inhabited by a happy race named the Hyperboreans,
dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the lofty
mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth
the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the
people of Hellas (Greece). Their country was inac-
cessible by land or sea. They lived exempt from dis-
ease or old age, from toils and warfare. Moore has
given us the "Song of a Hyperborean," beginning

"I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,

Where golden gardens glow,
Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep,
Their conch shells never blow."

On the south side of the earth, close to the stream
of Ocean, dwelt a people happy and virtuous as the
Hyperboreans. They were named the yEthiopians. The
gods favored them so highly that they were wont to
leave at times their Olympian abodes and go to share
their sacrifices and banquets.

On the western margin of the earth, by the stream of
Ocean, lay a happy place named the Elysian Plain,
whither mortals favored by the gods were transported
without tasting of death, to enjoy an immortality of
bliss. This happy region was also called th^ "Fortunate
Fields," and the "Isles of the Blessed."

We thus see that the Greeks of the early ages knew
little of any real people except those to the east and
south of their own country, or near the coast of the
Mediterranean. Their imagination meantime peopled
the western portion of this sea with giants, monsters,
and enchantresses ; while they placed around the disk
of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no

INTRODUCTION (^

great width, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the
gods, and blessed with happiness and longevity.

The Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon were supposed
to rise out of the Ocean, on the eastern side, and to
drive through the air, giving light to gods and men.
The stars, also, except those forming the Wain or Bear,
and others near them, rose out of and sank into the
stream of Ocean. There the sun-god embarked in a
winged boat, which conveyed him round by the north-
ern part of the earth, back to his place of rising in the
east. Milton alludes to this in his "Comus" :

"Now the gilded car of day
His golden axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantic stream,
And the slope Sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole.
Pacing towards the other goal
Of his chamber in the east."

The abode of the gods was on the summit of Mount
Olympus, in Thessaly. A gate of clouds, kept by the
goddesses named the Seasons, opened to permit the pas-
sage of the Celestials to earth, and to receive them on
their return. The gods had their separate dwellings ; but
all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of Jupiter,
as did also those deities whose usual abode was the
earth, the waters, or the underworld. It was also in
the great hall of the palace of the Olympian king that
the gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their
food and drink, the latter being handed round by the
lovely goddess Hebe. Here they conversed of the af-'
fairs of heaven and earth ; and as they quaffed their
nectar, Apollo, the god of music, delighted them with the
tones of his lyre, to which the Muses sang in responsive
strains. When the sun was set, the gods retired to sleep
in their respective dwellings.

The following lines from the "Odyssey" will show
how Homer conceived of Olympus :

"So saying, Minerva, goddess azure-eyed,
Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat
Eternal of the gods, which never storms

4 .STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm
The expanse and cloudless shines with purest day.
There the inhabitants divine rejoice
Forever." Cowper.

The robes and other parts of the dress of the god-
desses were woven by Minerva and the Graces and
everything of a more solid nature was formed of the
various metals. Vulcan was architect, smith, armorer,
chariot builder, and artist of all work in Olympus. He
built of brass the houses of the gods ; he made for them
the golden shoes with which they trod the air or the
water, and moved from place to place with the speed
of the wind, or even of thought. He also shod with
brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the chariots of
the gods through the air, or along the surface of the
sea. He was able to bestow on his workmanship self-
motion, so that the tripods (chairs and tables) could
move of themselves in and out of the celestial hall. He
even endowed with intelligence the' golden handmaidens
whom he made to wait on himself.

Jupiter, or Jove (Zeus^), though called the father of
gods and men, had himself a beginning. Saturn (Cro-
nos) was his father, and Rhea (Ops) his mother. Sat-
urn and Rhea were of the race of Titans, who were
the children of Earth and Heaven, which sprang from
Chaos, of which we shall give a further account in our
next chapter.

There is another cosmogony, or account of the crea-
tion, according to which Earth, Erebus, and Love were
the first of beings. Love (Eros) issued from the egg
of Night, which floated on Chaos. By his arrows and
torch he pierced and vivified all things, producing life
and joy. /

Saturn and Rhea were not the only Titans. There
were others, whose names were Oceanus. Hyperion,
Lipetus, and Ophion, males; and Themis, Mnemosyne,
Eurynome, females. They are spoken of as the elder
gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to
others. Saturn yielded to Jupiter, Oceanus to Nep-

^ The names included in parentheses are the Greek, the others being the
Roman or Latin names.

INTRODUCTION

Q

tune, Hyperion to Apollo. Hyperion was the father
of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn. He is therefore the
original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor and
beauty which were afterwards bestowed on Apollo.

"Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself."

Shakspeare.

Ophion and Eurynome ruled over Olympus till they
were dethroned by Saturn and Rhea. Milton alludes
to them in "Paradise Lost." He says the heathens seem
to have had some knowledge of the temptation and fall
of man.

"And fabled how the serpent, whom they called
Ophion, with Eurynome, (the wide-
Encroaching Eve perhaps,) had first the rule
Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven."

The representations given of Saturn are not very
consistent; for on the one hand his reign is said to have
been the golden age of innocence and purity, and on the
other he is described as a monster who devoured his
children.^ Jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when
grown up espoused Metis (Prudence), who adminis-
tered a draught to Saturn which caused him to disgorge
his children. Jupiter, with his brothers and sisters, now
rebelled against their father Saturn and his brothers
the Titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of
them in Tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others.
Atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his
sh&ulders.

On the dethronement of Saturn, Jupiter with his
brothers Neptune (Poseidon) and Pluto (Dis) divided
his dominions. Jupiter's portion was the heavens, Nep-
tune's the ocean, and Pluto's the realms of the dead.
Earth and Olympus were common property. Jupiter
was king of gods and men. The thunder was his weap-
on, and he bore a shield called ^gis, made for him by

* This inconsistency arises from considering the Saturn of the Romans
the same with the Grecian deity Cronos (Time), which, as it brings
an end to all things which have had a beginning, may be said to devour
its own offspring.

6 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Vulcan. The eagle was his favorite bird, and bore his
thunderbolts.

Juno (Hera) was the wife of Jupiter, and queen of
the gods. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, was her
attendant and messenger. The peacock was her favorite
bird.

Vulcan (Hephaestos), the celestial artist, was the son
of Jupiter and Juno. He was born lame, and his
mother was so displeased at the sight of him that she
flung him out of heaven. Other accounts say that
Jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother
in a quarrel which occurred between them. Vulcan's
lameness, according to this account, was the consequence
of his fall. He was a whole day falling, and at last
alighted in the island of Lemnos, which was thence-
forth sacred to him. Milton alludes to this story in,
"Paradise Lost," Book I.:

"... From morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day ; and with the setting sun
Dropped from the zenith, like a falling star,
On Lemnos, the ^gean isle."

Mars (Ares), the god of war, was the son of
Jupiter and Juno.

Phoebus Apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and
music, was the son of Jupiter and Latona, and brother
of Diana (Artemis). He was god of the sun, as Diana,
his sister, was the goddess of the moon.

Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty,
was the daughter of Jupiter and Dione. Others say
that Venus sprang from the foam of the sea. The zephyr
wafted her along the waves to the Isle of Cyprus, where
she was received and attired by the Seasons, and then
led to the assembly of the gods. All were charmed
with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his
wife. Jupiter gave her to Vulcan, in gratitude for the
service he had rendered in forging thunderbolts. So
the most beautiful of the goddesses became the wife of
the most ill-favored of gods. Venus possessed an em-
broidered girdle called Cestus, which had the power of

INTRODUCTION 7

inspiring love. Her favorite birds were swans and
doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and
the myrtle.

Cupid (Eros), the god of love, was the son of Venus.
He was her constant companion ; and, armed with bow
and arrows, he shot the darts of desire into the bosoms
of both gods and men. There was a deity named An-
teros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger
of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of re-
ciprocal affection. The following legend is told of him:
Venus, complaining to Themis that her son Eros con-
tinued always a child, was told by her that it was be-
cause he was solitary, and that if he had a brother he
would grow apace. Anteros was soon afterwards born,
and Eros immediately was seen to increase rapidly in
size and strength.

Minerva (Pallas, Athene), the goddess of wisdom,
was the offspring of Jupiter, without a mother. She
sprang forth from his head completely armed. Her
favorite bird was the owl, and the plant sacred to her
the olive.

Byron, in "Childe Harold," alludes to the birth of
Minerva thus :

"Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,
And Freedom find no champion and no child,
Such as Columbia saw* arise, when she
Sprang forth a Pailas, armed and undefiled?
Or must such minds be nourished in the wild,
Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar
Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled
On infant Washington? Has earth no more
Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore?"

Mercury (Hermes) was the son of Jupiter and Maia.
He presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gym-
nastic exercises, even over thieving, and /everything, in
short, which required skill and dexterity. He was the
messenger of Jupiter, and wore a winged cap and winged
shoes. He bore in his hand a rod entwined with two
serpents, called the caduceus.

Mercury is said to have invented the lyre. He
found, one day, a tortoise, of which he took the shell,

8 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

made holes in the opposite edges of it, and drew cords
of linen through them, and the instrument was com-
plete. The cords were nine, in honor of the nine Muses.
Mercury gave the lyre to Apollo, and received from
him in exchange the caduceus.^

Ceres (Demeter) was the daughter of Saturn and
Rhea. She had a daughter named Proserpine (Per-
sephone), who became the wife of Pluto, and queen
of the realms of the dead. Ceres presided over agri-
culture.

Bacchus (Dionysus), the god of wine, was the son
of Jupiter and Semele. He represents not only the in-
toxicating power of wine, but its social and beneficent
influences likewise, so that he is viewed as the pro-
moter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover of peace.

The Muses were the daughters of Jupiter and Mne-
mosyne (Memory). They presided over song, and
prompted the memory. They were nine in number,
to each of whom was assigned the presidence over
some particular department of literature, art, or science.
Calliope was the muse of epic poetry, Clio of history,
Euterpe of lyric poetry, Melpomene of tragedy, Terp-
sichore of choral dance and song, Erato of love poetry,
Polyhymnia of sacred poetry, Urania of astronomy,
Thalia of comedy.

The Graces were goddesses presiding over the ban-
quet, the dance, and all social enjoyments and elegant
arts. They were three in number. Their names were
Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia.

Spenser describes the office of the Graces thus :

"These three on men all gracious gifts bestow
Which deck the body or adorn the mind/
To make them lovely or well-favored show;
As comely carriage, entertainment kind,
Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind,
And all the complements of courtesy;

^ From this origin of the instrument, the word "shell" is often used as
synonymous with "lyre," and figuratively for music and poetry. Thus
Gray, in his ode on the "Progress of Poesy," says:

"O Sovereign of the willing Soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares
And frantic Passions hear thy soft control."

HERMES.
Museum at Olympus. Discovered May 8, 1S77.

INTRODUCTION 9

They teach us how to each degree and kind
We should ourselves demean, to low, to high,
To friends, to foes ; which skill men call Civility."

The Fates were also three Clotho, Lachesis, and
Atropos. Their office was to spin the thread of human
destiny, and they were armed with shears, with which
they cut it off when they pleased. They were the
daughters of Themis (Law), who sits by Jove on his
throne to give him counsel.

The Erinnyes, or Furies, were three goddesses who
punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who
escaped or defied public justice. The heads of the
Furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole
appearance was terrific and appalling. Their names
were Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megsera. They were also
called Eumenides.

Nemesis was also an avenging goddess. She repre-
sents the righteous anger of the gods, particularly
towards the proud and insolent.

Pan was the god of flocks and shepherds. His fa-
vorite residence was in Arcadia.

The Satyrs were deities of the woods and fields.
They were conceived to be covered with bristly hair,
their heads decorated with short, sprouting horns, and
their feet like goats' feet.

Momus was the god of laughter, and Plutus the god
of wealth.

ROMAN DIVINITIES

The preceding are Grecian divinities, though received
also by the Romans. Those which follow are peculiar
to Roman mythology :

Saturn was an ancient Italian deity. It was at-
tempted to identify him with the Grecian god Cronos,
and fabled that after his dethronement by Jupiter he
fled to Italy, where he reigned during what was called
the Golden Age. In memory of his beneficent do-
minion, the feast of Saturnalia was held every year in
the winter season. Then all public business was sus-
pended, declarations of war and criminal executions

10 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

were postponed, friends made presents to one another^
and the slaves were indulged with great liberties. A
feast was given them at which they sat at table, while
their masters served them, to show the natural equality
of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in
the reign of Saturn.

Faunus,^ the grandson of Saturn, was worshipped as
the god of fields and shepherds, and also as a pro-
phetic god. His name in the plural, Fauns, expressed
a class of gamesome deities, like the Satyrs of the
Greeks.

Quirinus was a war god, said to be no other than
Romulus, the founder of Rome, exalted after his death
to a place among the gods.

Bellona, a war goddess.

Terminus, the god of landmarks. His statue was a
rude stone or post, set in the ground to miark the boun-
daries of fields.

Pales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pas-
tures.

Pomona presided over fruit trees.

Flora, the goddess of flowers.

Lucina, the goddess of childbirth.

Vesta (the Hestia of the Greeks) was a deity pre-
siding over the public and private hearth. A sacred
fire, tended by six virgin priestesses called Vestals,
flamed in her temple. As the safety of the city was
held to be connected with its conservation, the neglect
of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely pun-
ished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the
sun.

Liber is the Latin name of Bacchus; and Mulciber
of Vulcan. /

Janus was the porter of heaven. He opens the year,
the first month being named after him. He is the
guardian deity of gates, on which account he is com-
monly represented with two heads, because ever}.' door
looks two ways. His temples at Rome were numer-
ous. In war time the gates of the principal one were
always open. In peace they were closed; but they

* There was also a goddess called Fauna, or Bona Dea.

APOLLO AND DAPHNE

"Thy godlike crime was to be kind;

To render with thy precepts less

The sum of human wretchedness,
And strengthen man with his own mind.

And, baffled as thou wert from high,

Still, in thy patient energy
In the endurance and repulse

Of thine impenetrable spirit,
Which earth and heaven could not convulse,

A mighty lesson we inherit."

Byron also employs the same allusion, in his "Ode
to Napoleon Bonaparte" :

"Or, like the thief of fire from heaven.
Wilt thou withstand the shock?
And share with him the un forgiven
His vulture and his rock?"

CHAPTER ni

APOLLO AND DAPHNE PYRAMUS AND THISBE

CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS

The slime with which the earth was covered by the
'aters of the flood produced an excessive fertility,
;hich called forth every variety of production,' both bad
id good. Among the rest. Python, an enormous ser-
pt, crept forth, the terror of the people, and lurked
j^the caves of Mount Parnassus. Apollo slew him
fina^ his arrows weapons which he had not before
Pgjtd against any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, O' ^
^^^i such game. In commemoration of this illustrious ^/'^__^
j^,iquest he instituted the Pythian games, in which the// c-'

yjp'tor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in the
^j^ariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech
4ves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by Apollo
,s his own tree.

.- The famous statue of Apollo called the Belvedere
represents the ^od after this victory over the serpent
Pvthon. To this Byron alludes in his "Childe Harold,"
IV., 161 :

20 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"... The lord of the unerring bow,
The god of Hfe, and poetry, and light.
The Sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow-
All radiant from his triumph in the fight.
The shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright
With an immortal's vengeance ; in his eye
And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might
And majesty flash their full lightnings by,
Developing in that one glance the Deity."

APOLLO AND DAPHNE

Daphne was Apollo's first love. It was not brought
about by accident, but by the malice of Cupid. Apollo
saw the boy playing with his bow and arrows ; and
being himself elated with his recent victory oyer Python,
he said to him, "What have you to do with warlike
weapons, saucy boy? Leave them for hands worthy
of them. Behold the conquest I have won by means
of them over the vast serpent who stretched his
poisonous body over acres of the plain ! Be content
with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as
you call them, where you will, but presume not to
meddle with my weapons." Venus's boy heard these
words, and rejoined, "Your arrows may strike all things
else, Apollo, but mine shall strike you." So saying,
he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, and drew
from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship,
one to excite love, the other to repel it. The former
was of gold and sharp pointed, the latter blunt and
tipped with lead. With the leaden shaft he struck the
nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river god Peneus,
and with the golden one Apollo, through the heart.
Forthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden,
and she abhorred the thought of loving. Her delight
was in woodland sports and in the spoils of the chase.
Many lovers sought her, but she spurned them all,
ranging the woods, and taking no thought of Cupid nor
of Hymen. Her father often said to her, "Daughter,
you owe me a son-in-law ; you owe me grandchildren."
She, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with
her beautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw
her arms around her father's neck, and said, "Dearest

APOLLO AND DAPHNE 21

father, grant me this favor, that I may always remain
unmarried, Hke Diana." He consented, but at the same
time said, "Your own face will forbid it."

Apollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he
who gives oracles to all the world was not wise enough
to look into his own fortunes. He saw her hair
flung loose over her shoulders, and said, "H so charm-
ing in disorder, what would it be if arranged?" He
saw her eyes bright as stars ; he saw her lips, and
was not satisfied with only seeing them. He admired
her hands and arms, naked to the shoulder, and what-
ever was hidden from view he imagined more beau-
tiful still. He followed her; she fled, swifter than
the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties.
"Stay," said he, "daughter of Peneus; I am not a foe.
Do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove
the hawk. It is for love I pursue you. You make
me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt your-
self on these stones, and I should be the cause. Pray
run slower, and I will follow slower. I am no clown,
no rude peasant. Jupiter is my father, and I am lord
of Delphos and Tenedos, and know all things, present
and future. I am the god of song and the lyre. My
arrows fly true to the mark ; but, alas ! an arrow more
fatal than mine has pierced my heart ! I am the god
of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants.
Alas ! I suffer a malady that no balm can cure !

The nymph continued her flight, and left his plea
half uttered. And even as she fled she charmed him.
The wind blew her garments, and her unbound hair
streamed loose behind her. The god grew impatient
to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by Cupid,
gained upon her in the race. It was like a hound
pursuing a hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while
the feebler animal darts forward, slipping from the very
grasp. So flew the god and the virgin he on the wings
of love, and she on those of fear. The pursuer is the
more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his pant-
ing breath blows upon her hair. Her strength begins
to fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father,
the river god : "Help me, Peneus ! open the earth to en-

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

close me, or change my form, which has brought me
into this danger!" Scarcely had she spoken, when a
stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be
enclosed in a tender bark ; her hair became leaves ; her
arms became branches ; her foot stuck fast in the
ground, as a root ; her facs became a tree-top, retain-
ing nothing of its former self but its beauty. Apollo
stood amazed. He touched the stem, and felt the flesh
tremble under the new bark. He embraced the branches,
and lavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank
from his lips. "Since you cannot be my wife," said
he, "you shall assuredly be my tree. I will wear you
for my crown ; I will decorate with you my harp and
my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors
lead up the triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall
be woven into wreaths for their brows. And, as eternal
youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and your
leaf know no decay." The nymph, now changed into a
Laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledg-
ment.

That Apollo should be the god both of music and
poetry will not appear strange, but that medicine should
also be assigned to his province, may. The poet Arm-
strong, himself a physician, thus accounts for it:

"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Expels diseases, softens every pain;
And hence the wise of ancient days adored
One power of physic, melody, and song."

The story of Apollo and Daphne is often alluded to
by the poets. Waller applies it to th^ case of one
whose amatory verses, though they did not soften the
heart of his mistress, yet won for the poet wide-spread
fame:

"Yet what he sung in his immortal strain.
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in va:n.
All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion and approve hit song.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise.
He caught at love and filled his arms with bays."

PYRAMUS AND THISBE

The following stanza from Shelley's "Adonais" al-
ludes to Byron's early quarrel with the reviewers :

"The herded wolves, bold only to pursue ;
The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;
The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true,
Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
And whose wings rain contagion : how they fled,
When like Apollo, from his golden bow.
The Pythian of the age one arrow sped
And smiled! The spoilers tempt no second blow;
They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go."

PYRAMUS AND THISBE

Pyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the
fairest maiden, in all Babylonia, where Semiramis
reigned. Their parents occupied adjoining houses; and
neighborhood brought the young people together, and
acquaintance ripened into love. They would gladly
have married, but their parents forbade. One thing,
however, they could not forbid that love should glow
with equal ardor in the bosoms of both. They con-
versed by signs and glances, and the fire burned more
intensely for being covered up. In the wall that parted
the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault
in the structure. No one had remarked it before, but
the lovers discovered it. W'hat will not love discover!
wish^orded a passage to the voice; and tender mes-
buri( used to pass backward and forward through the
forth As they stood, Pyramus on this side, Thisbe on
heir breaths would mingle. "Cruel wall," they
^ 'why do you keep two lovers apart? But we
Safei f be ungrateful. We owe you, we confess, tiic
Thisl ^ of transmitting loving words to willing ears."
rds they uttered on different sides of the wall ;
1 night came and they must say farewell, they
heir lips upon the wall, she on her side, he
they cotild come no nearer,
orning, when Aurora had put out the stars,
n had metted the frost from the grass, they
accustomed spot. Then, after lamenting
'ate, they agreed that next night, when all

24 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

was still, they would slip away from watchful eyes,
leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and
to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice
standing without the city's bounds, called the Tomb of
Ninus, and that the one who came first should await
the other at the foot of a certain tree. It was a white
mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. All was
agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to
go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from
them. Then cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved
by the family, her head covered with a veil, made her
way to the monument and sat down under the tree.
As she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she
descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaugh-
ter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst. Thisbe
fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of
a rock. As she fled she dropped her veil. The lioness
after drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the
woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and
rent it with her bloody mouth.

Pyramus, having been delayed, now approached the
place of meeting. He saw in the sand the footsteps
of the lion, and the color fled from his cheeks at the
sight. Presently he found the veil all rent and bloody.
"O hapless girl," said he, 'T have been the cause of
thy death ! Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast
fallen the first victim. I will follow. I am the guilty
cause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril,
and not being myself on the spot to guard thee. Come
forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this guilty body
with your teeth." He took up the veil, carried it with
him to the appointed tree, and cover^ it with kisses
and with tears. "My blood also shall stain your tex-
ture," said he, and drawing his sword plunged it into
his heart. The blood spurted from the wound, and
tinged the white mulberries of the tree all red ; and
sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the
red color mounted through the trunk to the fruit.

By this time Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet
wishing not to disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously
forth, looking anxiously for the youth, eager to tell him

PYRAMUS AND THISBE 25

the danger she had escaped. When she came to the
spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries she
doubted whether it was the same place. While " she
hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the
agonies of death. She started back, a shudder ran
through her frame as a ripple on the face of the still
water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. But as
soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and
beat her breast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring
tears into its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold
lips. "O Pyramus," she cried, "what has done this?
Answer me, Pyramus ; it is your own Thisbe that speaks.
Hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping head !" At
the name of Thisbe Pyramus opened his eyes, then
closed them again. She saw her veil stained with blood
and the scabbard empty of its sword. "Thy own hand
has slain thee, and for my sake," she said. "I too can
be brave for once, and my love is as strong as thine.
I will follow thee in death, for I have been the cause;
and death which alone could part us shall not prevent
my joining thee. And ye, unhappy parents of us both,
deny us not our united request. As love and death have
joined us, let one tomb contain us. And thou, tree,
retain the marks of slaughter. Let thy berries still serve
for memorials of our blood." So saying she plunged
the sword into her breast. Her parents ratified her
wish, the gods also ratified it. The two bodies were
buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after brought
forth purple berries, as it does to this day.

Moore, in the ."Sylph's Ball," speaking of Davy's
Safety Lamp, is reminded of the wall that separated
Thisbe and her lover :

"O for that Lamp's metallic gauze,
That curtain of protectir. i wire,
Which Davy delicately draws
Around illicit, dangerous fire!

The wall he sets 'twixt Flame and Air,

(Like that which barred young Thisbe's bliss,)

Through whose small holes this dangerous pair
May see each other, but not kiss.'"

26 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

In Mickle's translation of the "Lusiad" occurs the
following allusion to the story of Pyramus and Thisbe,
and the metamorphosis of the mulberries. The poet is
describing the Island of Love:

". . . here each gift Pomona's hand bestows
In cultured garden, free uncultured flows,
The flavor sweeter and the hue more fair
Than e'er was fostered by the hand of care.
The cherry here in shining crimson glows,
And stained with lovers' blood, in pendent rows,
The mulberries o'erload the bending boughs."

If any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted
as to enjoy a laugh at the expense of poor Pyramus
and Thisbe, they may find an opportunity by turning
to Shakspeare's play of the "Midsummer Night's
Dream," where it is most amusingly burlesqued.

CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS

Cephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly
sports. He would rise before the dawn to pursue the
chase. Aurora saw him when she first looked forth,
fell in love with him, and stole him away. But Cephalus
was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly
loved. Her name was Procris. She was a favorite
of Dia.ia, the goddess of hunting, who had given her
a dog which could outrun every rival, and a javelin
which would never fail of its mark ; and Procris gave
these presents to her husband. Cephalus was so happy
in his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of Aurora,
and she finally dismissed him in displeasure, saying,
"Go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife/ whom, if I am
not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry you
ever saw again."

Cephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his
wife and his woodland sports. Now it happened some
angry deity had sent a ravenous fox to annoy the coun-
try; and the hunters turned out in great strength to
capture it. Their efforts were all in vain; no dog could
run it down ; and at last they came to Cephalus to bor-
row his famous dog, whose name was Lelaps. No

CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS 27

sooner was the dog let loose than he darted off, quicker
th^n their eye could follow him. If they had not seen
his footprints in the sand they would have thought he
flew. Cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the
race. The fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and
turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open
jaws, snapping at his heels, but biting only the air.
Cephalus was about to use his javelin, when suddenly he
saw both dog and game stop instantly. The heavenly
powers who had given both were not willing that either
should conquer. In the very attitude of life and action
they were turned into stone. So lifelike and natural did
they look, you would have thought, as you looked at
them, that one was going to bark, the other to leap for-
ward.

Cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still contin-
ued to take delight in the chase. He would go out a^
early morning, ranging the woods and hills unaccom-
panied by any one. needing no help, for his javelin was a
sure weapon in all cases. Fatigued with hunting, when
the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a
cool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his
garments thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. Some-
times he would say aloud, "Come, sweet breeze, come
and fan my breast, come and allay the heat that burns
me." Some one passing by one day heard him talking in
this way to the air. and, foolishly believing that he was
talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to
Procris, Cephalus's wife. Love is credulous. Procris,
at the sudden shock, fainted away. Presently re-
covering, she said. "It cannot be true ; I will not be-
lieve it unless I myself am a witness to it." So she
waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when
Cephalus went to hunt as usual. Then she stole out
after him. and concealed herself in the place where the
informer directed her. Cephalus came as he was wont
when tired with sport, and stretched himself on the
green bank, saying. "Come, sweet breeze, come and
fan me ; you know how I love you ! you make the groves
and my solitary rambles delightful." He was running
on in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a

28 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

sound as of a sob in the bushes. Supposing it some
wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. A cry
from his beloved Procris told him that the weapon had
too surely met its mark. He rushed to the place, and
found her bleeding, and with sinking strength endeav-
oring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her
own gift. Cephalus raised her from the earth, strove
to stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to
leave him miserable, to reproach himself with her death.
She opened her feeble eyes, and forced herself to utter
these few words : "I implore you, if you have ever loved
me, if I have ever deserved kindness at your hands, my
husband, grant me this last request ; do not marry that
odious Breeze !" This disclosed the whole mystery : but
alas! what advantage to disclose it now! She died; but
her face wore a calm expression, and she looked pity-
ingly and forgivingly on her husband when he made her
understand the truth.

Moore, in his "Legendary Ballads," has one on
Cephalus and Procris, beginning thus :

"A hunter once in a grove reclined.

To shun the noon's bright eye,
And oft he wooed the wandering wind

To cool his brow with its sigh.
While mute lay even the wild bee's hum,

Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair.
His song was still, 'Sweet Air, O come !'

While Echo answered, 'Come, sweet Air !' "

CHAPTER IV /

JUNO AND HER RIVALS, 10 AND CALLISTO DIANA AND

ACTION LATONA AND THE RUSTICS

Juno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and
immediately suspected that her husband had raised a
cloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear
the light. She brushed away the cloud, and saw her
husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a beautiful

JUNO AND HER RIVALS 29

heifer standing near him. Juno suspected the heifer's
form concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould as
was, indeed the case ; for it was lo, the daughter of
the river god Inachus, whom Jupiter had been flirting
with, and, when he became aware of the approach of his
wife, had changed into that form.

Juno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer
praised its beauty, and asked whose it was, and of what
herd. Jupiter, to stop questions, replied that it was a
fresh creation from the earth. Juno asked to have it as
a gift. What could Jupiter do? He was loath to give
his mistress to his wife ; yet how refuse so trifling
a present as a simple heifer? He could not, without
exciting suspicion; so he consented. The goddess was
not yet relieved of her suspicions ; so she delivered the
heifer to Argus, to be strictly watched.

Now Argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never
went to sleep with more than two at a time, so that he
kept watch of lo constantly. He suffered her to feed
through the day, and at night tied her up with a vile^
rope round her neck. She would have stretched out her
arms to implore freedom of Argus, but she had no arms
to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that fright-
ened even herself. She saw her father and her sisters,
went near them, and suffered them to pat her back, and
heard them admire her beauty. Her father reached her
a tuft of grass, and she licked the outstretched hand.
She longed to make herself known to him, and would
have uttered her wish ; but, alas ! words were wanting.
At length she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed
her name it was a short one with her hoof on the
sand. Inachus recognized it, and discovering that his
daughter, whom he had long sought in vain, was hidden
under this disguise, mourned over her, and, embracing
her white neck, exclaimed, "Alas ! my daughter, it would
have been a less grief to have lost you altogether !"
While he thus lamented, Argus, observing, came and
drove her away, and took his seat on a higli bank, from
whence he could see all around in every direction.

Jupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his
mistress, and calling Mercury told him to go and despatch

30 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Argus. Mercury made haste, put his winged slippers on
his feet, and cap on his head, took his sleep-producing
wand, and leaped down from the heavenly towers to the
earth. There he laid aside his wings, and kept only his
wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd
driving his flock. As he strolled on he blew upon his
pipes. These were what are called the Syrinx or Pandean
pipes. Argus listened with delight, for he had never seen
the instrument before. "Young man," said he, "come
and take a seat by me on this stone. There is no better
place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and
here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love." Mercury
sat down, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and
played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping
to lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain ; for
Argus still contrived to keep some of his eyes open
though he shut the rest.

Among other stories. Mercury told him how the instru-
ment on which he played was invented. "There was a
certain nymph, whose name was Syrinx, who was much
beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the wood; but she
would have none of them, but was a faithful worshipper
of Diana, and followed the chase. You would have
thought it was Diana herself, had you seen her in her
hunting dress, only that her bow was of horn and Diana's
of silver. One day, as she was returning from the chase,
Pan met her, told her just this, and added more of the
same sort. She ran away, without stopping to hear his
compliments, and he pursued till she came to the bank of
the river, where he overtook her, and she had only time to
call for help on her friends the water nymphs. They
heard and consented. Pan threw his ar^ns around what
he supposed to be the form of the nymph, and found he
embraced only a tuft of reeds ! As he breathed a sigh,
the air sounded through the reeds, and produced a plain-
tive melody. The god, charmed with the novelty and with
the sweetness of the music, said, 'Thus, then, at least,
you shall be mine.' And he took some of the reeds, and
placing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side,
made an instrument which he called Syrinx, in honor of
the nymph." Before Mercury had finished his story he

CALLISTO 31

saw Argus's eyes all asleep. xA.s his head nodded forward
on his breast, Mercury with one stroke cut his neck
through, and tumbled his head down the rocks. O hap-
less Argus ! the light of your hundred eyes is quenched
at once ! Juno took them and put them as ornaments
on the tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day.
But the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated. She
sent a gadfly to torment lo, who fled over the whole
world from its pursuit. She swam through the Ionian
sea, which derived its name from her, then roamed over
the plains of Illyria, ascended Mount Haemus, and crossed
the Thracian strait, thence named the Bosphorus (cow-
ford), rambled on through Scythia, and the country of
the Cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the
Nile. At length Jupiter interceded for her, and upon
his promising not to pay her any more attentions Juno
consented to restore her to her form. It was curious to
see her gradually recover her former self. The coarse
hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes
grew narrower, her mouth shorter ; hands and fingers
came instead of hoofs to her forefeet ; in fine there was
nothing left of the heifer, except her beauty. At first she
was afraid to speak, for fear she should low, but grad-
ually she recovered her confidence and was restored to
her father and sisters.

In a poem dedicated to Leigh Hunt, by Keats, the fol-
lowing allusion to the story of Pan and Syrinx occurs:

"So did he feel who pulled the bough aside,
That we might look into a forest wide,

Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled
Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread.
Poor nymph poor Pan how he did weep to find
Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind
Along the reedy stream ; a half-heard strain.
Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain."

CALLISTO

Callisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy
of Juno, and the goddess changed her into a bear. "I

32 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

will take away," said she, "that beauty with which you
have captivated my husband." Down fell Callisto on her
hands and knees ; she tried to stretch out her arms in
supplication they were already beginning to be covered
with black hair. Her hands grew rounded, became armed
with crooked claws, and served for feet ; her mouth,
which Jove used to praise for its beauty, became a horrid
pair of jaws ; her voice, which if unchanged would have
moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more fit to
inspire terror. Yet her former disposition remained,
and with continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and
stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her paws
to beg for mercy, and felt that Jove was unkind, though
she could not tell him so. Ah, how often, afraid to stay
in the woods all night alone, she wandered about the
neighborhood of her former haunts ; how often, fright-
ened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in
terror from the hunters ! Often she fled from the wild
beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild beast herself ;
and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears.

One day a youth espied her as he was hunting. She
saw him and recognized him as her own son, now grown
a young man. She stopped and felt inclined to embrace
him. As she was about to approach, he, alarmed, raised
his hunting spear, and was on the point of transfixing
her, when Jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and
snatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens
as the Great and Little Bear.

Juno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and
hastened to ancient Tethys and Oceanus, the powers of
ocean, and in answer to their inquiries thus told the cause
of her 'coming: "Do you ask why I, the queen of the
gods, have left the heavenly plains and sought your
depths? Learn that I am supplanted in heaven my
place is given to another. You will hardly believe me;
but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see
the two of whom I have so much reason to complain
exalted to the heavens, in that part where the circle is the
smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole. Why should
any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending
Juno, when such rewards are the consequence of my dis-

CALLISTO 33

pleasure ? See what I have been able to effect ! I forbade
her to wear the human form she is placed among the
stars ! So do my punishments result such is the extent
of my power ! Better that she should have resumed her
former shape, as I permitted lo to do. Perhaps he means
to marry her, and put me away ! But you, my foster-
parents, if you feel for me, and see with displeasure this
unworthy treatment of me, show it, I beseech you, by
forbidding this guilty couple from coming into your
waters." The powers of the ocean assented, and conse-
quently the two constellations of the Great and Little
Bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink,
as the other stars do, beneath the ocean.

Milton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the
Bear never sets, when he says :

"Let my lamp at midnight hour
Be seen in some high lonely tower,
Where I may oft outwatch the Bear," etc.

And Prometheus, in J. R. Lowell's poem, says :

"One after one the stars have risen and set,
Sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain;
The Bear that prowled all night about the fold
Of the North-star, hath shrunk into his den,
Scared by the blithesome footsteps of the Dawn."

The last star in the tail of the Little Bear is the Pole-
star, called also the Cynosure. Milton says :

"Straight mine eye hath caug:ht new pleasures
While the landscape round it measures.

Towers and battlements it sees
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies
The Cynosure of neighboring eyes."

The reference here is both to the Pole-star as the guide
of mariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the North.
He calls it also the "Star of Arcady," because Callisto's

34 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

boy was named Areas, and they lived in Arcadia. In
"Comus," the brother, benighted in the woods, says :

". . . Some gentle taper !
Though a rush candle, from the wicker hole
Of some clay habitation, visit us
With thy long levelled rule of streaming light,
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Or Tyrian Cynosure."

DIANA AND ACTION

Thus in two instances we have seen Juno's severity
to her rivals ; now let us learn how a virgin goddess pun-
ished an invader of her privacy.

It was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from
either goal, when young Actseon, son of King Cadmus,
thus addressed the youths who with him were hunting
the stag in the mountains :

"Friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the
blood of our victims; we have had sport enough for one
day, and to-morrow we can renew our labors. Now,
while Phoebus parches the earth, let us put by our imple-
ments and indulge ourselves with rest."

There was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and
pines, sacred to the huntress queen, Diana. In the ex-
tremity of the valley was a cave, not adorned with art,
but nature had counterfeited art in its construction, for
she had turned the arch of its roof with stones as deli-
cately fitted as if by the hand of man. A fountain burst
out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a
grassy rim. Here the goddess of the woods used to come
when weary with hunting and lave h^r virgin limbs in
the sparkling water.

One day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she
handed her javelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her
robe to another, while a third unbound the sandals from
her feet. Then Crocale, the most skilful of them, ar-
ranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale, and the rest drew
water in capacious urns. While the goddess was thus
employed in the labors of the toilet, behold Actason, hav-
ing quitted his companions, and rambling without any

DIANA AND ACTION 35

especial object, came to the place, led thither by his
destiny. As he presented himself at the entrance of the
cave, the nymphs, seeing a man, screamed and rushed
towards the goddess to hide her with their bodies. But
she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all by
a head. Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or
at dawn came over the countenance of Diana thus taken
by surprise. Surrounded as she was by her nymphs, shj
yet turned half away, and sought with a sudden impulse
for her arrows. As they were not at hand, she dash J
the water into the face of the intruder, adding thcs^
words: "Now go and tell, if you can, that you have
seen Diana unapparelled." Immediately a pair of branch-
ing stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in
length, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became
feet, his arms long legs, his body was covered with a
hairy spotted hide. Fear took the place of his former
boldness, and the hero fled. He could not but admire his
own speed ; but when he saw his horns in the water, "Ah,
wretched me !" he would have said, but no sound followed
the effort. He groaned, and tears flowed down the face
\vhich had taken the place of his own. Yet his conscious-
ness remained. What shall he do ? go home to seek the
palace, or lie hid in the woods ? The latter he was afraid,
the former he was ashamed, to do. While he hesitated
the dogs saw him. First Melampus, a Spartan dog, gave
the signal with his bark, then Pamphagus, Dorceus, Le-
laps, Theron, Nape, Tigris, and all the rest, rushed after
him swifter than the wind. Over rocks and cliffs, through
mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he fled and
they followed. Where he had often chased the stag and
cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered
on by his huntsmen. He longed to cry out, "I am Ac-
taeon ; recognize your master !" but the words came not
at his will. The air resounded with the bark of the dogs.
Presently one fastened on his back, another seized his
shoulder. While they held their master, the rest of the
pack came up and buried their teeth in his flesh. He
groaned, not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a
stag's, and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and
would have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had

Z6 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

them. His friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the
dogs, and looked everywhere for Actseon, calling on him
to join the sport. At the sound of his name he turned
his head, and heard them regret that he should be away.
He earnestly wished he was. He would have been well
pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them
was too much. They were all around him, rending and
tearing ; and it was not till they had torn his life out that
the anger of Diana was satisfied.

In Shelley's poem "Adonais" is the following allusion
to the story of Actaeon :

'"Midst others of less note came one frail form,
A phantom among men : companionless
As the last cloud of an expiring storm,
Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess,
Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness,
Actseon-like, and now he fled astray
With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness :
And his own Thoughts, along that rugged way.
Pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey."

Stanza 31.

The allusion is probably to Shelley himsejf.

LATONA AND THE RUSTICS

Some thought the goddess in this instance more severe
than was just, while others praised her conduct as strictly
consistent with her virgin dignity. As usual, the recent
event brought older ones to mind, and one of the by-
standers told this story: "Some countrymen of Lycia
once insulted the goddess Latona, but n^t with impunity.
When I was young, my father, who had grown too old
for active labors, sent me to Lycia to drive thence some
choice oxen, and there I saw the very pond and marsh
where the wonder happened. Near by stood an ancient
altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice and almost buried
among the reeds. I inquired whose altar it might be,
whether of Faunus or the Naiads, or some god of the
neighboring mountain, and one of the country people
replied, 'No mountain or river god possesses this altar,

LATONA AND THE RUSTICS 37

but she whom royal Juno in her jealousy drove from land
to land, denying her any spot of earth whereon to rear
her twins. Bearing in her arms the infant deities, Latona
reached this land, weary with her burden and parched
with thirst. By chance she espied on the bottom of the
valley this pond of clear water, where the country people
were at work gathering willows and osiers. The goddess
approached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked
her thirst in the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her.
'Why do you refuse me water?' said she; 'water is
free to all. Nature allows no one to claim as property
the sunshine, the air, or the water. I come to take my
share of the common blessing. Yet I ask it of you as a
favor. I have no intention of washing my limbs in it,
weary though they be, but only to quench my thirst. My
mouth is so dry that I can hardly speak. A draught of
water would be nectar to me ; it would revive me, and I
would own myself indebted to you for life itself. Let
these infants move your pity, who stretch out their little
arms as if to plead for me ;' and the children, as it
happened, were stretching out their arms.

"Who would not have been moved with these gentle
words of the goddess? But these clowns persisted in
their rudeness; they even added jeers and threats of vio-
lence if she did not leave the place. Nor was this all.
They waded into the pond and stirred up the mud with
their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink. Latona
was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. She
no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to
heaven exclaimed, 'May they never quit that pool, but
pass their lives there !' And it came to pass accordingly.
They now live in the water, sometimes totally submerged,
then raising their heads above the surface or swimming
upon it. Sometimes they come out upon the bank, but
soon leap back again into the water. They still use their
base voices in railing, and though they have the water
all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst
of it. Their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their
mouths have become stretched by constant railing, their
necks have shrunk up and disappeared, and their heads
are joined to their bodies. Their backs are green, their

38 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

disproportioned bellies white, and in short they are now
frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool."

This story explains the allusion in one of Milton's
sonnets, ''On the detraction which followed upon his
writing certain treatises."

"I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known laws of ancient I'berty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me

Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.

As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,
Which after held the sun and moon in fee."

The persecution which Latona experienced from Juno
is alluded to in the story. The tradition was that the
future mother of Apollo and Diana, flying from the wrath
of Juno, besought all the islands of the ^gean to afford
her a place of rest, but all feared too much the potent
queen of heaven to assist her rival. Delos alone consent-
ed to become the birthplace of the future deitiee. Delos
was then a floating island ; but when Latona arrived there,
Jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom
of the sea, that it might be a secure resting-place for his
beloved. Byron alludes to Delos in his "Don Juan" :

"The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!"

CHAPTER V

PHAETON

Phaeton was the son of ApoUo-aud the-nympluCly-^
meiie. One day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of
his being the son of the god, and Phaeton went in rage
and shame and reported it to his mother. "If," said he,
"I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some

PHAETON 39

proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor." Cly-
mene stretched forth her hands towards the skies, and
said, "I call to witness the Sun which looks down upon
us, that I have told you the truth. If I speak falsely,
let this be the last time I behold his light. But it needs
not much labor to go and inquire for yourself ; the land
whence the Sun rises lies next to ours. Go and demand
of him whether he will own you as a son." Phaeton
heard with delight. He travelled to India, which lies
directly in the regions of sunrise ; and, full of hope and
pride, approached the goal whence his parent begins his
course.

The palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns,
glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished
ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors. The
workmanship surpassed the material ; ^ for upon the
walls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with
their inhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some
sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes,
while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green
hair. Their faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,
but such as sisters' ought to be.^ The earth had its towns
and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was
carved the likeness of the glorious heaven ; and on the
silver doors the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each
side.

Clymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and
entered the halls of his disputed father. He approached
the paternal presence, but stopped at a distance, for the
light was more than he could bear. Phoebus, arrayed
in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as
with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood the
Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals,
the Hours. Spring stood with her head crowned with
flowers, and Summer, with garment cast aside, and a
garland formed of spears of ripened grain, and Autumn,
with his feet stained with grape- juice, and icy Winter,
with his hair stifTened with hoar frost. Surrounded by
these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees every-
thing, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and

* See Proveibial Expressions.

40 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

splendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his
errand. The youth rephed, "O Hght of the boundless
world, Phoebus, my father, if you permit me to use that
name, give me some proof, I beseech you, by which I
may be known as yours." He ceased ; and his father,
laying aside the beams that shone all around his head,
bade him approach, and embracing him, said, "My son,
you deserve not to be disownea, and I confirm what your
mother has told you. To put an end to your doubts, ask
what you will, the gift shall be yours. I call to witness
that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but which we gods
swear by in our most solemn engagements." Phaeton
immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive
the chariot of the sun. The father repented of his
promise ; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head
in warning. "I have spoken rashly," said he ; "this only
request I would fain deny. I beg you to withdraw it.
It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited to your
youth and strength. Your lot is mortal, and you ask what
is beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire
to do that which not even the gods themselves may do.
None but myself may drive the flaming car of day. Not
even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder-
bolts. The first part of the way is steep, and such as ,
the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb ;
the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself
can scarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the
earth and sea stretched beneath me. The last part of the
road descends rapidly, and requires most careful driving.
Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for
me lest I should fall headlong. Add to alLthis, the heaven
is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with
it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that move-
ment, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry
me also away. Suppose I should lend you the chariot,
what would you do? Could you keep your course while
the sphere was revolving under you ? Perhaps you think
that there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and
palaces and temples on the way. On the contrary, the
road is through the midst of frightful monsters. You
pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and

PHAETON 41

near the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches
its arms in one direction and the Crab in another. Nor
will you find it easy to guide those horses, with their
breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their
mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely govern them myself,
when they are unruly and resist the reins. Beware, my
son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift ; recall your request
while yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you
are sprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my
fears for you. Look at my face I would that you could
look into my breast, you would there see all a father's
anxiety. Finally," he continued, "look round the world
and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea con-
tains most precious ask it and fear no refusal. This
only I pray you not to urge. It is not honor, but destruc-
tion you seek. Why do you hang round my neck and still
entreat me? You shall have it if you persist, the oath
is sworn and must be kept, but I beg you to choose more
wisely."

He ended; but the youth rejected all admonition and
held to his demand. So, having resisted as long as he
could, Phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty
chariot.

It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan ; the axle was of gold,
the pole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along
the seat were rows of chrysolites and diamonds which
reflected all around the brightness of the sun. While
the daring youth gazed in admiration, the early Dawn
threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the
pathway strewn with roses. The stars withdrew, mar-
shalled by the Day-star, which last of all retired also.
The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and
the Moon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to har-
ness up the horses. They obeyed, and led forth from the
lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached
the reins. Then the father bathed the face of his son
with a powerful unguent, and made him capable of en-
during the brightness of the flame. He set the rays on
his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, "If, my son,
you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip
and hold tight the reins. They go fast enough of their

42 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

own accord ; the labor is to hold them in. You are not
to take the straight road directly between the five circles,
but turn off to the left. Keep within the limit of the
middle zone, and avoid the northern and the southern
alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and they
will serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the earth
may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high,
or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or
you will set the earth on fire; the middle course is safest
and best.^ And now I leave you to your chance, which I
hope will plan better for you than you have done for
yourself. Night is passing out of the western gates and
we can delay no longer. Take the reins ; but if at last
your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice,
'stay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and
warm the earth." The agile youth sprang into the chariot,
stood erect, and grasped the reins with delight, pouring
out thanks to his reluctant parent.

Meanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings
and fiery breath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now
the bars are let down, and the boundless plain of the
universe lies open before them. They dart forward and
cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the morning
breezes which started from the same eastern goal. The
steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter
than usual ; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither
and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its accus-
tomed weight, was dashed about as if empty. They rush
headlong and leave the travelled road. He is alarmed,
and knows not how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has
he the power. Then, for the first time, the Great and
Little Bear were scorched with heat, 'and would fain,
if it were possible, have plunged into the water ; and the
Serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid
and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage
revive. Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered
with his plough, and all unused to rapid motion.

When hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth,
now spreading in vast extent beneath him, he grew pale
and his knees shook with terror. In spite of the glare

* See Proverbial Expressions.

PHAETON 43

all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. He
wished he had never touched his father's horses, never
learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He
is borne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest,
when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his
prayers. What shall he do? Much of the heavenly road
is left behind, but more remains before. He turns his
eyes from one direction to the other ; now to the goal
whence he began his course, now to the realms of sunset
which he is not destined to reach. He loses his self-com-
mand, and knows not what to do, whether to draw tight
the reins or throw them loose ; he forgets the names of
the horses. He sees with terror the monstrous forms
scattered over the surface of heaven. Here the Scor-
pion extended his two great arms, with his tail and
crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac.
When the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and men-
acing with his fangs, his courage failed, and the reins
fell from his hands. The horses, when they felt them
loose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained
went ofif into unknown regions of the sky, in among the
stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in
high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon
saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running be-
neath her own. The clouds begin to smoke, and the
mountain tops take fire ; the fields are parched with heat,
the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches burn,
the harvest is ablaze ! But these are small things. Great
cities perished, with their walls and towers ; whole nations
with their people were consumed to ashes ! The forest-
clad mountains burned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus
and CEte ; Ida, once celebrated for fountains, but now all
dry ; the Muses' mountain Helicon, and Hsemus ; yEtna,
with fires within and without, and Parnassus, with his
two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to part with his
snowy crown. Her cold climate was no protection to
Scythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and,
greater than both, Olympus ; the Alps high in air, and the
Apennines crowned with clouds.

Then Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the
heat intolerable. The air he breathed was like the air

44 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

of a furnace and full of burning ashes, and the smoke
was of a pitchy darkness. He dashed forward he knew
not whither. Then, it is believed, the people of Ethiopia
became black by the blood being forced so suddenly to
the surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to the
condition in which it remains to this day. The Nymphs
of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their
waters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks :
Tanais smoked, and Caicus, Xanthus, and Meander ;
Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with golden
sands, and Cayster where the swans resort. Nile fled
away and hid his head in the desert, and there it still
remains concealed. Where he used to discharge his
waters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven
dry channels alone remained. The earth cracked open,
and through the chinks light broke into Tartarus, and
frightened the king of shadows and his queen. The sea
shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry
plain ; and the mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted
up their heads and became islands. The fishes sought
the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as
usual to sport on the surface. Even Nereus, and his wife
Doris, with the Nereids, their daughters, sought the deep-
est caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed to raise
his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back
by the heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters,
yet with head and shoulders bare, screening her face with
her hand, looked up to heaven, and with a husky voice
called on Jupiter:

"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment,
and it is your will that I perish with fire, why withhold
your thunderbolts? Let me at least fall by your hand.
Is this the reward of my fertility, of my obedient service?
Is it for this that I have supplied herbage for cattle, and
fruits for men, and frankincense for your altars? But
if I am unworthy of regard, what has my brother Ocean
done to deserve such a fate? If neither of us can excite
your pity, think, I pray you, of your own heaven, and
behold how both the poles are smoking which sustain
your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas
faints, and scarce holds up his burden. If sea, earth,

PHAETON 45

and heaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what
yet remains to us from the devouring flame. O, take
thought for our deliverance in this awful moment !"

Thus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst,
could say no more. Then Jupiter omnipotent, calling to
witness all the gods, including him who had lent the
chariot, and showing them that all was lost unless speedy
remedy were applied, mounted the lofty tower from
whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the
forked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to
be found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a
shower remaining unexhausted. He thundered, and
brandishing a lightning bolt in his right hand launched
it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same mo-
ment from his seat and from existence ! Phaeton, with
his hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which
marks .the heavens with its brightness as it falls, and
Eridanus, the great river, received him and cooled his
burning frame. The Italian Naiads reared a tomb for
him, and inscribed these words upon the stone :

"Driver of Phoebus' chariot. Phaeton,
Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.
He could not rule his father's car of fire,
Yet was it much so nobly to aspire." ^

His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate,
were turned into poplar trees, on the banks of the river,
and their tears, which continued to flow, became amber
as they dropped into the stream.

Milman, in his poem of "Samor," makes the following
allusion to Phaeton's story :

"As when the palsied universe aghast
Lay . . . mute and still,

When drove, so poets sing, the Sun-born youth
Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's
Ill-granted chariot. Him the Thunderer hurled
From th' empyrean headlong to the gulf
Of the half-parched Eridanus, where weep
Even now the sister trees their amber tears
O'er Phaeton untimely dead."

In the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Landor, de-

* See Proverbial Expressions.

46 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

scriptive of the Sea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's
palace and chariot. The water-nymph says :

"... I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
Within, and things that lustre have imbibed
In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked
His chariot wheel stands midway on the wave.
Shake one and it awakens ; then apply
Its polished lip to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."

Gebir, Book I.

CHAPTER VI

MIDAS BAUCIS AND PHILEMON

Bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old school-
master and foster-father, Silenus, missing. The old man
had been drinking, and in that state wandered away, and
was found by some peasants, who carried him to their
king, Midas. Midas recognized him, and treated him
hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with
an unceasing round of jollity. On the eleventh day he
brought Silenus back, and restored him in safety to his
))upil. Whereupon Bacchus offered Midas his choice
of a reward, whatever he might wish. He asked that
whatever he might touch should be changed into gold.
Bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a
better choice. Midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-
acquired power, which he hastened t6 put to the test.
He could scarce believe his eyes when he found a twig
of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, become
gold in his hand. He took up a stone ; it changed to gold.
He touched a sod; it did the same. He took an apple
from the tree ; you would have thought he had robbed
the garden of the Hesperides. His joy knew no bounds,
and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to
set a splendid repast on the table. Then he found to his
dismay that whether he touched bread, it hardened in his

MIDAS ^7

hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. He
took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat like
melted gold.

In consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he
strove to divest himself of his power; he hated the gift
he had lately coveted. But all in vain ; starvation seemed
to await him. He raised his arms, all shining with gold,
in prayer to Bacchus, begging to be delivered from his
glittering destruction. Bacchus, merciful deity, heard and
consented. "Go," said he, "to the River Pactolus, trace
the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your head
and body in, and wash away your fault and its pun-
ishment." He did so, and scarce had he touched the
waters before the gold-creating power passed into them,
and the river-sands became changed into gold, as they
remain to this day.

Thenceforth Midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt
in the country, and became a worshipper of Pan, the
god of the fields. On a certain occasion Pan had the~]
temerity to compare his music with that of -ApoU, and '
to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. The
challenge was accepted, and Tmolus, the mountain god,
was chosen umpire. The senior took his seat, and cleared
av/ay the trees from his ears to listen. At a given signal
Pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave
great satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower
Midas, who happened to be present. Then Tmolus turned
his head toward the Sun-god, and all his trees turned with
him. .^ ^ollo r ose, his brow wreathed with Parnassian
laurel, while his robe of Tyrian purple swept the ground.
In his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand
struck the strings. Ravished with the harmony, Tmolus
at once awarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and
all but Midas acquiesced in the judgment. He dissented,
and questioned the justice of the award. Apnllo would
not sufifer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to 1
wear the human form, but caused them to increase in I
length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on I
their roots ; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those \
of an ass. "- ^

Mortified enough was King Midas at this mishap ; but \

48 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

- he consoled himself with the thought that it was possible
lito hide his misfortune, which he attempted to do by means
ijof an ample turban or head-dress. But his hair-dresser
of course knew the secret. He was charged not to men-
tion it, and threatened with dire punishment if he pre-
sumed to disobey. But he found it too much for his
discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the
meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down,
whispered the story, and covered it up. Before long a
thick bed of reeds sprang up in the meadow, and as soon
as it had gained its growth, began whispering the story,
and has continued to do so, from that day to this, every
time a breeze passes over the place.

The story of King Midas has been told by others with
some variations. Dryden, in the "Wife of Bath's Tale,"
makes Midas's queen the betrayer of the secret:

"This Midas knew, and durst communicate
To none but to his wife his ears of state."

Midas was king of Phrygia. He was the son of Gor-
dius, a poor countryman, who was taken by the people
and made king, in obedience to the command of the
oracle, which had said that their future king should come
in a wagon. While the people were deliberating, Gor-
dius with his wife and son came driving his wagon into
the public square.

Gordius, being rfiade king, dedicated his wagon to the
deity of the oracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast
knot. This was the celebrated Gordian knot, which, in
after times it was said, whoever should untie should be-
come lord of all Asia. Many tried to untie it, but none
succeeded, till Alexander the Great, in his career of con-
quest, came to Phrygia. He tried his skill with as ill suc-
cess as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword
and cut the knot. When he afterwards succeeded in
subjecting all Asia to his sway, people began to think that
he had complied with the terms of the oracle according
to its true meaning.

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON 49

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON

On a certain hill in Phrygia stands a linden tree and
an oak, enclosed by a low wall. Not far from the spot
is a marsh, formerly good habitable land, but now in-
dented with pools, the resort of fen-birds and cormorants.
Once on a time Jupiter, in human shape, visited this
country, and with him his son Mercury (he of the ca-
duceus), without his wings. They presented themselves,
as weary travellers, at many a door, seeking rest and
shelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the in-
hospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open
for their reception. At last a humble mansion received
them, a small thatched cottage, where Baucis, a pious old
dame, and her husband Philemon, united when young,
had grown old together. Not ashamed of their poverty,
they made it endurable by moderate desires and kind dis-
positions. One need not look there for master or for
servant ; they two were the whole household, master and
servant alike. When the two heavenly guests crossed
the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass
under the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which
Baucis, bustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged
them to sit down. Then she raked out the coals from the
ashes, and kindled up a fire, fed it with leaves and dry
bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a flame.
She brought out of a corner split sticks and dry branches,
broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle.
Her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and
she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for
the pot. He reached down with a forked stick a flitch of
bacon hanging in the chimney, cut a small piece, and put
it in the pot to boil with the herbs, setting away the rest
for another time. A beechen bowl was filled with warm
water, tliat their guests might wash. While all was do-
ing, they beguiled the time with conversation.

On the bench designed for the guests was laid a cush-
ion stuffed with sea-weed ; and a cloth, only produced
on great occasions, but ancient and coarse enough, was
spread over that. The old lady, with her apron on, with
trembling hand set the table. One leg was shorter than

50 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the level.
When fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-
smelling herbs. Upon it she set some of chaste Minerva's
olives, some cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and
added radishes and cheese, with eggs lightly cooked in
the ashes. All were served in earthen dishes, and an
earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups, stood beside
them. When all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was
set on the table. Some wine, not of the oldest, was
added ; and for dessert, apples and wild honey ; and over
and above all, friendly faces, and simple but hearty
welcome.

Now while the repast proceeded, the old folks were
astonished to see that the wine, as fast as it was poured
out, renewed itself in the pitcher, of its own accord.
Struck with terror, Baucis and Philemon recognized their
heavenly guests, fell on their knees, and with clasped
hands implored forgiveness for their poor entertain-
ment. There was an old goose, which they kept as the
guardian of their humble cottage ; and they bethought
them to make this a sacrifice in honor of their guests.
But the goose, too nimble, with the aid of feet and wings,
for the old folks, eluded their pursuit, and at last took
shelter between the gods themselves. They forbade it to
be slain ; and spoke in these words : "We are gods. This
inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of its impiety ;
you alone shall go free from the chastisement. Quit
your house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill."
They hastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the
steep ascent. They had reached to within an arrow's
flight of the top, when turning their eyes below, they
beheld all the country sunk in a lak^, only their own
house left standing. While they gazed with wonder at
the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors, that
old house of theirs was changed into a temple. Col-
umns took the place of the corner posts, the thatch grew
yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became
marble, the doors were enriched with carving and orna-
ments of gold. Then spoke Jupiter in benignant accents :
"Excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a hus-
band, speak, tell us your wishes ; what favor have you

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON 51

to ask of us?" Philemon cook counsel with Baucis a
few moments ; then declared to the gods their united
wish. "We ask to be priests and guardians of this your
temple ; and since here we have passed our lives in love
and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may
take us both from life, that I may not live to see her
grave, nor be laid in my own by her." Their prayer was
granted. They were the keepers of the temple as long
as they lived. When grown very old, as they stood one
day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and were telling
the story of the place, Baucis saw Philemon begin to
put forth leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis changing
in like manner. And now a leafy crown had grown
over their heads, while exchanging parting words, as
long as they could speak. "Farewell, dear spouse," they
said, together, and at the same moment the bark closed
over their mouths. The Tyanean shepherd still shows
the two trees, standing side by side, made out of the
two good old people.

The story of Baucis and Philemon has been imitated
by Swift, in a burlesque style, the actors in the change
being two wandering saints, and the house being changed
into a church, of which Philemon is made the parson.
The following may serve as a specimen:

"They scarce had spoke, when, fair and soft.
The roof began to mount aloft ;
Aloft rose every beam and rafter;
The heavy wall climbed slowly after.
The chimney widened and grew higher.
Became a steeple with a spire.
The kettle to the top was hoist,
And there stood fastened to a joist,
But with the upside down, to show
Its inclination for below;
In vain, for a superior force.
Applied at bottom, stops its course;
Doomed ever in suspense to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.
A wooden jack, which had almost
Lost by disuse the art to roast,
A sudden alteration feels.
Increased by new intestine wheels;
And, what exalts the wonder more.

52 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The number made the motion slower;

The flier, though 't had leaden feet,

Turned round so quick you scarce could see 't;

But slackened by some secret power,

Now hardly moves an inch an hour.

The jack and chimney, near allied,

Had never left each other's side :

The chimney to a steeple grown.

The jack would not be left alone;

But up against the steeple reared,

Became a clock, and still adhered;

And still its love to household cares

By a shrill voice at noon declares,

Warning the cook-maid not to burn

That roast meat which it cannot turn;

The groaning chair began to crawl,

Like a huge snail, along the wall ;

There stuck aloft in public view.

And with small change, a pulpit grew.

A bedstead of the antique mode.

Compact of timber many a load,

Such as our ancestors did use.

Was metamorphosed into pews.

Which still their ancient nature keep

By lodging folks disposed to sleep."

CHAPTER Vn

PROSERPINE GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA

When Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the
Titans and banished them to Tartarus, a new enemy-
rose up against the gods. They were the giants Typhon,
Briareus, Enceladus, and others. Some .of them had a
hundred arms, others breathed out fire. They were
finally subdued and buried alive under Mount ^^tna,
where they still sometimes struggle to get loose, and
shake the whole island with earthquakes. Their breath
comes up through the mountain, and is what men call
the eruption of the volcano.

The fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that
Pluto was alarmed, and feared that his kingdom would
be laid open to the light of day. Under this apprehen-
sion, he mounted his chariot, drawn by black horses,

PROSERPINE 53

and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy himself of
the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged,
Venus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with
her boy Cupid, espied him, and said, "My son, take your
darts with which you conquer all, even Jove himself,
and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch,
who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why should he alone
escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire
and mine. Do you not see that even in heaven some
despise our power? Minerva the wise, and Diana the
huntress, defy us ; and there is that daughter of Ceres.
who threatens to follow their example. Now do you,
if you have any regard for your own interest or mine,
join these two in one." The boy unbound his quiver,
and selected his sharpest and truest arrow ; then straining
the bow against his knee, he attached the string, and,
having made ready, shot the arrow with its barbed point
right into the heart of Pluto.

In the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in
woods, which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun,
while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and
Spring reigns perpetual. Here Proserpine was playing
with her companions, gathering lilies and violets, and
filling her basket and her apron with them, when Pluto
oaw her, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed
for help to her mother and companions ; and when in
her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and
let the flowers fall, childlike she felt the loss of them
as an addition to her grief. The ravisher urged on his
steeds, calling them each by name, and throwing loose
over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins. When
he reached the River Cyane, and it opposed his passage,
he struck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth
opened and gave him a passage to Tartarus.

Ceres sought her daughter all the world over. Bright-
haired Aurora, when she came forth in the morning,
and Hesperus when he led out the stars in the evening,
found her still busy in the search. But it was all un-
availing. At length, weary and sad, she sat down upon
a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights, in
the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and fall-

54 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

ing showers. It was where now stands the city of
Eleusis, then the home of an old man named Celeus.
He was out in the field, gathering acorns and black-
berries, and sticks for his fire. His little girl was driving
home their two goats, and as she passed the goddess,
who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said
to her, "Mother," and the name was sweet to the ears
of Ceres, "why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?"
The old man also stopped, though his load was heavy,
and begged her to come into his cottage, such as it was.
She declined, and he urged her. "Go in peace," she
replied, "and be happy in your daughter ; I have lost
mine." As she spoke, tears or something like tears,
for the gods never weep fell down her cheeks upon
her bosom. The compassionate old man and his child
wept with her. Then said he, "Come with us, and de-
spise not our humble roof ; so may your daughter be
restored to you in safety." "Lead on," said she, "I can-
not resist that appeal !" So she rose from the stone
and went with them. As they walked he told her that
his only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish, and
sleepless. She stooped and gathered some poppies. As
they entered the cottage, they found all in great distress,
for the boy seemed past hope of recovery. Metanira,
his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stoopec
and kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the pale-
ness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body.
The whole family were delighted that is, the father,
mother, and little girl, for they were all ; they had no
servants. They spread the table, and put upon it curds
and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While they
ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the/milk of the boy.
When night came and all was still, she arose, and taking
the sleeping boy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and
uttered over him three times a solemn charm, then went
and laid him in the ashes. His mother, who had been
watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward with
a cry and snatched the child from the fire. Then Ceres
assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all
around. While they were overcome with astonishment,
she said, "Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness

PROSERPINE 55

to your son. I would have made him immortal, but you
have frustrated my attempt. Nevertheless, he shall be
great and useful. He shall teach men the use of the
plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the
cultivated soil." So saying, she wrapped a cloud about
her, and mounting her chariot rode away.

Ceres continued her search for her daughter, passing
from land to land, and across seas and rivers, till at
length she returned to Sicily, whence she at first set out,
and stood by the banks of the River Cyane, where Pluto
made himself a passage with his prize to his own do-
minions. The river nymph would have told the goddess
all she had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto ;
so she only ventured to take up the girdle which Proser-
pine had dropped in her flight, and waft it to the feet
of the mother. Ceres, seeing this, was no longer in
doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the cause,
and laid the blame on the innocent land. "Ungrateful
soil," said she, "which I have endowed with fertility
and clothed with herbage and nourishing grain, no more
shall you enjoy my favors." Then the cattle died, the
plough broke in the furrow, the seed failed to come up ;
there was too much sun, there was too much rain ; the
birds stole the seeds thistles and brambles were the
only growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa inter-
ceded for the land. "Goddess," said she, "blame not the
land ; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your
daughter. I can tell you of her fate, for I have seen
her. This is not my native country ; I came hither from
Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted in the
chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing
ior it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits. One
day I was returning from the wood, heated with exer-
cise, when I came to a stream silently flowing, so clear
that you might count the pebbles 'on the bottom. The
willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to
the water's edge. I approached, I touched the water
with my foot. I stepped in knee-deep, and not content
with that, I laid my garments on the willows and went
in. While I sported in the water, I heard an indistinct
murmur coming up as out of the depths of the stream;

56 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The
voice said, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus,
the god of this stream.' I ran, he pursued ; he was not
more swift than I, but he was stronger, and gained upon
me, as my strength failed. At last, exhausted, I cried
for help to Diana. 'Help me, goddess ! help your vo-
tary !' The goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in
a thick cloud. The river god looked now this way and
now that, and twice came close to me, but could not
find me. 'xA.rethusa ! Arethusa !' he cried. Oh, how I
trembled, like a lamb that hears the wolf growling out-
side the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hair
flowed down in streams ; where my foot stood there was
a pool. In short, in less time than it takes to tell it I
became a fountain. But in this form Alpheus knew me
and attempted to mingle his stream with mine. Diana
cleft the ground, and I, endeavoring to escape him,
plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of
the earth came out here in Sicily. While I passed
through the lower parts of the earth, I saw your Proser-
pine. She was sad, but no longer showing alarm in her
countenance. Her look was such as became a queen
the queen of Erebus ; the powerful bride of the monarch
of the realms of the dead."

Wlien Ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one
stupefied; then turned her chariot towards heaven, and
hastened to present herself before the throne of Jove.
She told the story of her bereavement, and implored
Jupiter to interfere to procure the restitution of her
daughter. Jupiter consented on one condition, namely,
that Proserpine should not during her ^fay in the lower
world have taken any food ; otherwise, the Fates for-
bade her release. Accordingly, Mercury was sent, ac-
companied by Spring, to demand Proserpine of Pluto.
The wily monarch consented ; but, alas ! the maiden had
taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, and had
sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. This
was enough to prevent her complete release ; but a com-
promise was made, by which she was to pass half the
time with her mother, and the rest with her husband
Pluto.

PROSERPINE 57

Ceres aWowed herself to be pacified with this arrange-
ment, and restored the earth to her favor. Now she
remembered Celeus and his family, and her promise to
his infant son Triptolemus. When the boy grew up,
she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow
the seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged
dragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting
to mankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agri-
culture. After his return, Triptolemus built a magnifi-
cent temple to Ceres in Eleusis, and established the
worship of the goddess, under the name of the Eleu-
sinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and solemnity
of their observance, surpassed all other religious cele-
brations among the Greeks.

There can be little doubt of this story of Ceres and
Proserpine being an allegory. Proserpine signifies the
seed-corn which when cast into the ground lies there
concealed that is, she is carried off by the god of the
underworld. It reappears that is, Proserpine is re-
stored to her mother. Spring leads her back to the light
of day.

Milton alludes t6 the story of Proserpine in "Paradise
Lost," Book IV.:

". . . Not that fair field
Of Enna where Proserpine gathering flowers,
Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis
Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain
To seek her through the world,
. . . might with this Paradise
Of Eden strive."

Hood, in his "Ode to Melancholy," uses the same
allusion very beautifully :

"Forgive, if somewhile I forget.
In woe to come the present bliss;
As frighted Proserpine let fall
Her flowers at the sight of Dis."

The River Alpheus does in fact disappear under-
* ground, in part of its course, finding its way through

58 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

subterranean channels till it again appears on the sur-
face. It was said that the Sicilian fountain Arethtisa
was the same stream, which, after passing under the
sea, came up again in Sicily. Hence the story ran that
a cup thrown into the Alpheus appeared again in Are-
thusa. It is this fable of the underground course of
Alpheus that Coleridge alludes to in his poem of "Kubla
Khan" :

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree,
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man,

Down to a sunless sea."

In one of Moore's juvenile poems he thus alludes to
the same story, and to the practice of throwing garlands
or other light objects on his stream to be carried down-
ward by it, and afterwards reproduced at its emerging:

"O my beloved, how^ divinely sweet
Is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet!
Like him the river god, whose waters flow.
With love their only light, through caves below.
Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids
And festal rings, with which Olympic maids
Have decked his current, as an offering meet
To lay at Arethusa's shining feet.
Think, when he meets at last his fountain bride,
What perfect love must thrill the blended tide!
Each lost in each, till mingling into one.
Their lot the same for shadow or for sun,
A type of true love, to the deep they run."

The following extract from Moore's "Rhymes on the
Road" gives an account of a celebrated picture by Al-
bano, at Milan, called a Dance of Loves :

"'Tis for the theft of Enna's flower from arth
These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth.

Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath ;

Those that are nearest linked in order bright.
Cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath;
And those more distant showing from beneath

The others' wings their little eyes of light.
While see! among the clouds, their eldest brother.

But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss,
This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother.

Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss."

GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA 59

GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA

Glaucus was a fisherman. One day he had drawn his
nets to land, and had taken a great many fishes of vari-
ous kinds. So he emptied his net, and proceeded to'
sort the fishes on the grass. The place where he stood
was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary spot, unin-
habited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever
visited by any but himself. On a sudden, the fishes,
which had been laid on the grass, began to revive and.
move their fins as if they were in the water ; and while
he looked on astonished, they one and all moved off to
the water, plunged in, and swam away. He did not
know what to make of this, whether some god had done
it or some secret power in the herbage. "What herb .
has such a power?" he exclaimed; and gathering some
of it, he tasted it. Scarce had the juices of the plant
reached his palate when he fovmd himself agitated with
a longing desire for the water. He could no longer
restrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he
plunged into the stream. The gods of the water re-
ceived him graciously, and admitted him to the honor
of their society. They obtained the consent of Oceanus
and Tethys, the sovereigns of the sea. that all that was
mortal in him should be washed away. A hundred
rivers poured their waters over him. Then he lost all
sense of his former nature and all consciousness. When
he recovered, he found himself changed in form and
mind. His hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him
on the water ; his shoulders grew broad, and what had
been thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail.
The sea-gods complimented him on the change of his
appearance, and he fancied himself rather a good-looking
personage.

One day Glaucus saw the beautiful maiden Scylla, the
favorite of the water-nymphs, rambling on the shore,
and when she had found a sheltered nook, laving her
limbs in the clear water. He fell in love with her, and
showing himself on the surface, spoke to her, saying
such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay ;
for she turned to run immediately on the sight of him,

60 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

and ran till she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea.
Here she stopped and turned round to see whether it was
a god or a sea animal, and observed with wonder his
shape and color. Glaucus partly emerging from the
water, and supporting himself against a rock, said,
"Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god;
and neither Proteus nor Triton ranks higher than I.
Once I was a mortal, and followed the sea for a living;
but now I belong wholly to it." Then he told the story
of his metamorphosis, and how he had been promoted to
his present dignity, and added, "But what avails all this
if it fails to move your heart?" He was going on in
this strain, but Scylla turned and hastened away.

Glaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to con-
sult the enchantress Circe. Accordingly he repaired to
her island the same where afterwards Ulysses landed,
as we shall see in ohe of our later stories. After mutual
salutations, he said, "Goddess, I entreat your pity; you
alone can relieve the pain I suffer. The power of herbs
I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owe my
change of form. I love Scylla. I am ashamed to tell
you how I have sued and promised to her, and how
scornfully she has treated me. I beseech you to use
your incantations, or potent herbs, if they are more pre-
vailing, not to cure me of my love, for that I do not
wish, but to make her share it and yield me a like re-
turn." To which Circe replied, for she was not insensible
to the attractions of the sea-green deity, "You had better
pursue a willing object; you are worthy to be sought,
instead of having to seek in vain. Be not diffident, know
your own worth. I protest to you that even I, goddess
though I be, and learned in the virtues/of plants and
spells, should not know how to refuse you. If she
scorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet
you half way, and thus make a due return to both at
once." To these words Glaucus replied, "Sooner shall
trees grow at the bottom of the ocean, and sea-weed on
the top of the mountains, than I will cease to love Scylla,
and her alone."

The goddess was indignant, but she could not punish
him, neither did she wish to do so, for she liked him too

GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA 61

Avell ; so she turned all her wrath against her rival, poor
Scylla. She took plants of poisonous powers and
mixed them together, with incantations and charms.
Then she passed through the crowd of gambolling
beasts, the victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast
of Sicily, where Scylla lived. There was a little bay on
the shore to which Scylla used to resort, in the heat of
the day, to breathe the air of the sea, and to bathe in its
waters. Here the goddess poured her poisonous mix-
ture, and muttered over it incantations of mighty power.
Scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to
her waist. What was her horror to perceive a brood of
serpents and barking monsters surrounding her ! At
first she could not imagine they were a part of herself,
and tried to run from them, and to drive them away ; but
as she ran she carried them with her, and when she tried
to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only the
yawning jaws of monsters. Scylla remained rooted to
the spot. Her temper grew as ugly as her form, and she
took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who came
within her grasp. Thus she destroyed six of the com-
panions of Ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of
^neas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as such
still continues to be a terror to mariners.

Keats, in his "Endymion," has given a new version of
the ending of "Glaucus and Scylla." Glaucus consents
to Circe's blandishments, till he by chance is witness to
her transactions with her beasts.^ Disgusted with her
treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from her, but
is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she
banishes him. sentencing him to pass a thousand years
in decrepitude and pain. He returns to the sea, and
there finds the body of Scylla, whom the goddess has
not transformed but drowned. Glaucus learns that his
destiny is that, if he passes his thousand years in
collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth be-
loved of the gods will appear and help him. Endymion
fulfils this projjhecy, and aids in restoring Glaucus to
youth, and Scylla and all the drowned lovers to life.

^ See page 241.

62 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The following is Glaucus's account of his feelings
after his "sea-change" :

"I plunged for life or death. To interknit
One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff
Might seem a work of pain; so not enough
Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt,
And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt
Whole days and days in sheer astonishment;
Forgetful utterly of self-intent,
Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow.
Then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show
His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,
I tried in fear the pinions of my will.
'Twas freedom! and at once I visited
The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed," etc.

Keats.

CHAPTER Vni

PYGMALION DRYOPE IVENU.S AND ADONIS APOLLO AND

HYACINTHUS

Pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that
he came at last to abhor the sex, and resolved to live
unmarried. He was a sculptor, and had made with
wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful that no
living woman came anywhere near it. It was indeed
the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be
alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty.
His art was so perfect that it concealed itself and its
product looked like the workmanship of nature. Pyg-
malion admired his own work, and at la^t fell in love
with the counterfeit creation. Oftentimes he laid his
hand upon it as if to assure himself whether it were
living or not, and could not even then believe that it
was only ivory. He caressed it, and gave it presents
such as young girls love, bright shells and polished
stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads
and amber. He put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on
its fingers, and a necklace about its neck. To the ears
he hung earrings, and strings of pearls upon the breast.
Her dress became her, and she looked not less charming

PYGMALION 63

than when unattired. He laid her on a couch spread
with cloths of Tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and
put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if
she could enjoy their softness.

The festival of Venus was at hand a festival cele-
brated with great pomp at Cyprus. Victims were
offered, the altars smoked, and the odor of incense filled
the air. When Pygmalion had performed his part in the
solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly said,
"Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I pray you,
for my wife" he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but
said instead "one like my ivory virgin." Venus, who
was present at the festival, heard him and knew the
thought he would have uttered ; and as an omen of her
favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up thrice
in a fiery point into the air. When he returned home,
he went to see his statue, and leaning over the couch,
gave a kiss to the mouth. It seemed to be warm. He
pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs ;
the ivory felt soft to his touch and yielded to his fingers
like the wax of Hymettus. While he stands astonished
and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be mis-
taken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches
the object of his hopes. It was indeed alive! The veins
when pressed yielded to the finger and again resumed
their roundness. Then at last the votary of Venus
found words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips
upon lips as real as his own. The virgin felt the kisses
and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light,
fixed them at the same moment on her lover. Venus
blessed the nuptials she had formed, and from this union
Paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred to Venus,
received its name.

Schiller, in his poem the "Ideals," applies this tale of
Pygmalion to the love of nature in a youthful heart.
The following translation is furnished by a friend :

"As once with prayers in passion flowing,
Pygmalion embraced the stone,
Till from the frozen marble glowing,
The light of feeling o'er him shone,

64 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

So did I clasp with young devotion

Bright nature to a poet's heart;
Till breath and warmth and vital motion

Seemed through the statue form to dart.

"And then, in all my ardor sharing,
The silent form expression found ;
Returned my kiss of youthful daring.

And understood my heart's quick sound.
Then lived for me the bright creation,

The silver rill with song was rife;
The trees, the roses shared sensation.
An echo of my boundless life."

5-. G. B.

DRYOPE

Dryope and lole were sisters. The former was the
wife of Andraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy
in the birth of her first child. One day the sisters
strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually
down to the water's edge, while the upland was over-
grown with myrtles. They were intending to gather
flowers for forming garlands for the altars of the
nymphs, and Dryope carried her child at her bosom,
precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. Near
the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple flowers.
Dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and
lole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood
dropping from the places where her sister had broken
them off the stem. The plant was no other than the
nymph Lotis, who, running from a base pursuer, had
been changed into this form. This they learned from
the country people when it was too late.

Dryope, horror-struck when she perp^ived what she
had done, would gladly have hastened from the spot,
but found her feet rooted to the ground. She tried to
pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs.
The woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested
her body. In anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but
found her hands filled with leaves. The infant felt his
mother's bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to
flow. lole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and
could render no assistance. She embraced the growing

VENUS AND ADONIS 65

trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood,
and would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark.
At this moment Andraemon, the husband of Dryope,
with her father, approached; and when they asked for
Dryope, lole pointed them to the new-formed lotus.
They embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and
showered their kisses on its leaves.

Now there was nothing left of Dryope but her face.
Her tears still flowed and fell on her leaves, and while
she could she spoke. "I am not guilty. I deser\'e not
this fate. I have injured no one. If I speak falsely,
may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk be
cut down and burned. Take this infant and give it to a
nurse. Let it often be brought and nursed under my
branches, and play in my shade ; and when he is old
enough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and
to say with sadness, 'My mother lies hid under this bark.'
But bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how
he plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees
may be a goddess in disguise. Farewell, dear husband,
and sister, and father. If you retain any love for me,
let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite and tear
my branches. Since I cannot stoop to you, climb up
hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel,
lift up my child that I may kiss him. I can speak no
more, for already the bark advances up my neck, and
will soon shoot over me. You need not close my eyes,
the bark will close them without your aid." Then the
lips ceased to move, and life was extinct ; but the
branches retained for some time longer the vital heat.

Keats, in "Endymion," alludes to Dryope thus :

"She took a lute from which there pulsing came
A hvely prelude, fashioning the way
In which her voice should wander. 'T was a lay
More subtle-cadenced. more forest-wild
Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;" etc.

VENUS AND ADONIS

Venus, playing one day with her boy Cupid, wounded
her bosom with one of his arrows. She pushed him

(^ STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

away, but the wound was deeper than she thought. Be-
fore it healed she beheld Adonis, and was captivated with
him. She no longer took any interest in her favor-
ite resorts Paphos, and Cnidos, and Amathos, rich in
metals. She absented herself even from heaven, for
Adonis was dearer to her than heaven. Him she
followed and bore him company. She who used to
love to recline in the shade, with no care but to culti-
vate her charms, now rambles through the woods and
over the hills, dressed like the huntress Diana ; and calls
her dogs, and chases hares and stags, or other game
that it is safe to hunt, but keeps clear of the wolves and
bears, reeking with the slaughter of the herd. She
charged Adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous ani-
mals. "Be brave towards the timid," said she; "courage
against the courageous is not safe. Beware how you
expose yourself to danger and put my happiness to risk.
Attack not the beasts that Nature has armed with weap-
ons. I do not value your glory so high as to consent to
purchase it by such exposure. Your youth, and the
beauty that charms Venus, will not touch the hearts of
lions and bristly boars. Think of their terrible claws
and prodigious strength ! I hate the whole race of them.
Do you ask me why?" Then she told him the story of
Atalanta and Hippomenes, who were changed into lions
for their ingratitude to her.

Having given him this warning, she mounted her
chariot drawn by swans, and drove away through the
air. But Adonis was too noble to heed such counsels.
The dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair, and the
youth threw his spear and wounded the ^animal with a
sidelong stroke. The beast drew out the weapon with
his jaws, and rushed after Adonis, who turned and ran ;
but the boar overtook him, and buried his tusks in his
side, and stretched him dying upon the plain.

Venus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet
reached Cyprus, when she heard coming up through mid-
air the groans of her beloved, and turned her white-
winged coursers back to earth. As she drew near and
saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she
alighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore

APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS

her hair. Reproaching the Fates, she said, "Yet theirs
shall be but a partial triumph ; memorials of my
grief shall endure, and the spectacle of your death, my
Adonis, and of my lamentations shall be annually re-
newed. Your blood shall be changed into a flower; that
consolation none can envy me." Thus speaking, she
sprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled,
bubbles rose as in a pool on which raindrops fall, and
in an hour's time there sprang up a flower of bloody hue
like that of the pomegranate. But it is short-lived. It
is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and after-
wards blows the petals away; so it is called Anemone, or
Wind Flower, from the cause which assists equally in its
production and its decay.

Milton alludes to the story of Venus and Adonis in
his "Comus" :

"Beds of hyacinth and roses
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
Waxing well of his deep wound
In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen;" etc.

APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS

Apollo was passionately fond of a youth named Hy-
acinthus. He accompanied him in his sports, carried
the nets when he went fishing, led the dogs when he
went to hunt, followed him in his excursions in the
mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and his ar-
rows. One day they played a game of quoits together,
and Apollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength
mingled with skill, sent it high and far. Hyacinthus
watched it as it flew, and excited with the sport ran
forward to seize it, eager to make his throw, when the
quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the
forehead. He fainted and fell. The god, as pale as
himself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the
wound and retain the flitting life, but all in vain; the
hurt was past the power of medicine. As when one has
broken the stem of a lily in the garden it hangs its head

(^ STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head of the
dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his
shoulder. "Thou diest. Hyacinth," so spoke Phoebus,
"robbed of thy youth by me. Thine is the suffering,
mine the crime. Would that I could die for thee ! But
since that may not be, thou shalt live with me in memory
and in song. My lyre shall celebrate thee, my song shall
tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed
^ith my regrets." While Apollo spoke, behold the
"blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the
herbage ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more
beautiful than the Tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily,
if it were not that this is purple and that silvery white.^
And this was not enough for Phoebus ; but to confer
still greater honor, he marked the petals with his sorrow,
and inscribed "Ah ! ah !" upon them as we see to this
day. The flower bears the name of Hyacinthus, and
with every returning spring revives the memory of his-
fate.

It was said that Zephyrus (the West wind), who was
also fond of Hyacinthus and jealous of his preference
of Apollo, blew the quoit out of its course to make it
strike Hyacinthus. Keats alludes to this in his "Endym-
ion," where he describes the lookers-on at the game
of quoits :

"Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent

On either side, pitying the sad death

Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath
Of Zephyr slew him; Zephyr penitent.
Who now ere Phoebus mounts the firmament,

Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain."

An allusion to Hyacinthus will also be recognized
in Milton's "Lycidas" :

"Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe."

* It is evidentlj; not our modern hyacinth that is here described. It is;
perhaps some species of iris, or perhaps of larkspur or of pansy.

CEYX AND HALCYONE 69

CHAPTER IX

CEYX AND HALCYONE : OR, THE HALCYON BIRDS

Ceyx was king of Thessaly, where he reigned in peace,
without violence or wrong. He was son of Hesperus,
the Day-star, and the glow of his beauty reminded one
of his father. Halcyone, the daughter of ^olus, was
liis wife, and devotedly attached to him. Now Ceyx was
in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and direful
prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as
if the gods were hostile to him. He thought best, there-
fore, to make a voyage to Carlos in Ionia, to consult the
oracle of Apollo. But as soon as he disclosed his inten-
tion to his wife Halcyone, a shudder ran through her
frame, and her face grew deadly pale. "What fault of
mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection from
me ? Where is that love of me that used to be uppermost
in your thoughts? Have you learned to feel easy in the
absence of Halcyone? Would you rather have me
away?" She also endeavored to discourage him, by de-
scribing the violence of the winds, which she had known
familiarly when she lived at home in her father's
house, ^olus being the god of the winds, and having
as much as he could do to restrain them. "They rush
together," said she, "with such fury that fire flashes
from the conflict. But if you must go," she added,
"dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise I shall
suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter,
but those also which my fears suggest."

These words weighed heavily on the mind of King
Ceyx, and it was no less his own wish than hers to
take her with him, but he could not bear to expose her
to the dangers of the sea. He answered, therefore, con-
soling her as well as he could, and finished with these
words : "I promise, by the rays of my father the Day-
star, that if fate permits I will return before the moon
shall have twice rounded her orb." When he had thus
spoken, he ordered tlie vessel to be drawn out of the

70 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

shiphouse, and the oars and sails to be put aboard.
When Halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered,
as if with a presentiment of evil. With tears and sobs
she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground.

Ceyx would still have lingered, but now the young
men grasped their oars and pulled vigorously through
the waves, with long and measured strokes. Halcyone
raised her streaming eyes, and saw her husband stand-
ing on the deck, waving his hand to her. She answered
his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she
could no longer distinguish his form from the rest.
When the vessel itself could no more be seen, she
strained her eyes to catch the last glimmer of the sail,
till that too disappeared. Then, retiring to her chamber,
^fhe threw herself on her solitary couch.

Meanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the
breeze plays among the ropes. The seamen draw in
their oars, and hoist their sails. When half or less of
their course was passed, as night drew on, the sea be-
gan to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind
to blow a gale. The master gave the word to take in
sail, but the storm forbade obedience, for such is the
roar of the winds and waves his orders are unheard.
The men, of their own accord, busy themselves to se-
cure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the sail.
While they thus do what to each one seems best, the
storm increases. The shouting of the men, the rattling
of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves, mingle
with the roar of the thunder. The swelling sea seems
lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the
clouds ; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the
color of the shoal a Stygian blackne^.

The vessel shares all these changes. It seems like
a wild beast that rushes on the spears of the hunters.
Rain falls in torrents, as if the skies were coming down
to unite with the sea. When the lightning ceases for
a moment, the night seems to add its own darkness to
that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the
darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. Skill
fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every
wave. The men are stupefied with terror. The thought

CEYX AND HALCYONE 71

of parents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes
over their minds. Ceyx thinks of Halcyone. No name
but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for her,
he yet rejoices in her absence. Presently the mast is
shattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken,
and the triumphant surge curling over looks down upon
the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to fragments. Some
of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and rise no
more; others cling to fragments of the wreck. Ceyx,
with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast
to a plank, calling for help, alas, in vain, upon his
father and his father-in-law. But oftenest on his lips,
was the name of Halcyone. To her his thoughts cling
He prays that the waves may bear his body to her sight,
and that it may receive burial at her hands. At length
the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks. The Day-
star looked dim that night. Since it could not leave
the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds.

In the meanwhile Halcyone, ignorant of all these hor-
rors, counted the days till her husband's promised re-
turn. Now she gets ready the garments which he shall
put on, and now what she shall wear when he arrives.
To all the gods she offers frequent incense, but more
than all to Juno. For her husband, who was no more,
she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he
might come home ; that he might not, in his absence,
see any one that he would love better than her. But
of all these prayers, the last was the only one destined
to be granted. The goddess, at length, could not bear
any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead,
and to have hands raised to her altars that ought rather
to be offering funeral rites. So, calling Iris, she said,
"Iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwell-
ing of Somnus, and tell him to send a vision to Halcy-
one in the form of Ceyx, to make known to her the
event."

Iris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing
the sky with her bow, seeks the palace of the King of
Sleep. Near the Cimmerian country, a mountain cave
is the abode of the dull god Somnus. Here Phoebus
dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting.

72 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and
the light glimmers faintly. The bird of dawning, with
crested head, never there calls aloud to Aurora, nor
watchful dog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the
silence. No wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch moved
with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks
the stillness. Silence reigns there; but from the bottom
of the rock the River Lethe flows, and by its murmur
invites to sleep. Poppies grow abundantly before the
door of the cave, and other herbs, from whose juices
Night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the
darkened earth. There is no gate to the mansion, to
creak on its hinges, nor any watchman ; but in the midst
a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and
black curtains. There the god reclines, his limbs re-
laxed with sleep. Around him lie dreams, resembling
all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks,
or the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains.

As soon as the goddess entered and brushed away
the dreams that hovered around her, her brightness lit
up all the cave. The god, scarce opening his eyes, and
ever and anon dropping his beard upon his breast, at
last shook himself free from himself, and leaning on
his arm, inquired her errand, for he knew who she was.
She answered, "Somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquil-
lizer of minds and soother of care-worn hearts, Juno
sends you her commands that you despatch a dream to
Halcyone, in the city of Trachine, representing her lost
husband and all the events of the wreck."

Having delivered her message. Iris hasted away, for
she could not longer endure the stag|:^ant air, and as
she felt drowsiness creeping over her, .she made her
escape, and returned by her bow the way she came.
Then Somnus called one of his numerous sons, Mor-
pheus, the most expert in counterfeiting forms, and
in imitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of
speaking, even the clothes and attitudes most charac-
teristic of each. But he only imitates men, leaving it
to another to personate birds, beasts, and serpents. Him
they call Icelos ; and Phantasos is a third, who turns
himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things with-

CEYX AND HALCYONE 7Z

out life. These wait upon kings and great personages
in their sleeping hours, while others move among the
common people. Somnus chose, from all the brothers,
Morpheus, to perform the command of Iris ; then laid
his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful
repose.

Morpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and
soon came to the Haemonian city, where, laying aside his
wings, he assumed the form of Ceyx. Under that form,
but pale like a dead man, naked, he stood before the
couch of the wretched wife. His beard seemed soaked
with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks.
Leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he
said, "Do you recognize your Ceyx, unhappy wife, or
has death too much changed my visage? Behold me,
know me, your husband's shade, instead of himself.
Your prayers, Halcyone, availed me nothing. I am
dead. No more deceive yourself with vain hopes of
my return. The stormy winds sunk my ship in the
M.g<f&.n Sea, waves filled my mouth while it called aloud
on you. No uncertain messenger tells you this, no vague
rumor brings it to your ears. I come in person, a
shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. Arise ! give me
tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to Tar-
tarus unwept." To these words Morpheus added the
voice, which seemed to be that of her husband ; he
seemed to pour forth genuine tears ; his hands had the
gestures of Ceyx.

Halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her
arms in her sleep, striving to embrace his body, but
grasping only the air. "Stay!" she cried; "whither do
you fly? let us go together." Her own voice awakened
her. Starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to see if
he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her
cries, had brought a light. When she found him not,
she smote her breast and rent her garments. She cares
not to unbind her hair, but tears it wildly. Her nurse
asks what is the cause of her grief. "Halcyone is no
more," she answers, "she perished with her Ceyx. Utter
not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. I
have seen him, I have recognized him. I stretched out

74 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

my hands to seize him and detain him. His shade van-
ished, but it was the true shade of my husband. Not
with the accustomed features, not with the beauty that
was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet with
sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. Here, in this
very spot, the sad vision stood," and she looked to find
the mark of his footsteps. "This it was, this that my
presaging mind foreboded, when I implored him not to
leave me, to trust himself to the waves. Oh, how I
wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst taken me with
thee ! It would have been far better. Then I should
have had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor
a separate death to die. If I could bear to live and
struggle to endure, I should be more cruel to myself
than the sea has been to me. But I will not struggle, I
will not be separated from thee, unhappy husband. This
time, at least, I will keep thee company. In death, if
one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall ; if I
may not lay my ashes with thine, my name, at least,
shall not be separated." Her grief forbade more words,
and these were broken with tears and sobs.

It was now morning. She went to the seashore, and
sought the spot where she last saw him, on his departure.
"While he lingered here, and cast off his tacklings, he
gave me his last kiss." While she reviews every object,
and strives to recall every incident, looking out over the
sea, she descries an indistinct object floating in the water.
At first she was in doubt what it was, but by degrees the
waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body of a
man. Though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of
some shipwrecked one, she was deeply /noved, and gave
it her tears, saying, "Alas ! unhappy one, and unhappy,
if such there be, thy wife 1" Borne by the waves, it
came nearer. As she more and more nearly views it,
she trembles more and more. Now, now it approaches
the shore. Now marks that she recognizes appear. It
is her husband ! Stretching out her trembling hands
towards it, she exclaims, "O dearest husband, is it thus
you return to me?"

There was built out from the shore a mole, constructed
to break the assaults of the sea, and stem its violent

CEYX AND HALCYONE 75

ingress. She leaped upon this barrier and (it was won-
derful she could do so) she flew, and striking the air
with wings produced on the instant, skimmed along the
surface of the water, an unhappy bird. As she flew,
her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like
the voice of one lamenting. When she touched the mute
and bloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with
her new-formed wings, and tried to give kisses with
her horny beak. Whether Ceyx felt it, or whether it
was only the action of the waves, those who looked on
doubted, but the body seemed to raise its head. But
indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods both of
them were changed into birds. They mate and have
their young ones. For seven placid days, in winter
time, Halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon
the sea. Then the way is safe to seamen, ^olus guards
the winds and keeps them from disturbing the deep.
The sea is given up, for the time, to his grandchildren.

The following lines from Byron's "Bride of Abydos"
might seem borrowed from the concluding part of this
description, if it were not stated that the author derived
the suggestion from observing the motion of a floating
corpse :

"As shaken on his restless pillow,
His head heaves with the heaving billow.
That hand, whose motion is not life,
Yet feebly seems to menace strife,
Flung by the tossing tide on high,
Then levelled with the wave . . ."

Milton in his "Hymn on the Nativity," thus alludes
to the fable of the Halcyon:

"But peaceful was the night
Wherein the Prince of light

His reign of peace upon the earth began;
The winds with wonder whist
Smoothly the waters kist

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave."

76 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Keats, also, in "Endymion," says :

"O magic sleep ! O comfortable bird
That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hushed and smooth."

CHAPTER X

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA

The Hamadryads were Wood-nymphs. Pomona was
of this class, and no one excelled her in love of the
garden and the culture of fruit. She cared not for
forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, and
trees that bear delicious apples. Her right hand bore
for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. Armed
with this, she busied herself at one time to repress the
too luxuriant growths, and curtail the branches that
straggled out of place; at another, to split the twig and
insert therein a graft, making the branch adopt a nurs-
ling not its own. She took care, too, that her favorites
should not sufifer from drought, and led streams
of water by them, that the thirsty roots might drink.
This occupation was her pursuit, her passion ; and she
was free from that which Venus inspires. She was-
not without fear of the country people, and kept her
orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. The
Fauns and Satyrs would have given all they possessed to
win her, and so would old Sylvanus, who looks young
for his years, and Pan, who wears a garland of pine
leaves around his head. But Verturpfnus loved her best
of all ; yet he sped no better than the rest. O how
often, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn
in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper!
With a hay band tied round him, one would think he
had just come from turning over the grass. Sometimes,
he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would
have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. Now
he bore a pruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser;;

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA 77

and again, with a ladder on his shoulder, he seemed
as if he was going to gather apples. Sometimes he
trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he
bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. In this way he
gained admission to her again and again, and fed his
passion with the sight of her.

One day he came in the guise of an old woman, her
gray hair surmounted with a cap, and a stafif in her
hand. She entered the garden and admired the fruit.
"It does you credit, my dear," she said, and kissed her,
not exactly with an old woman's kiss. She sat down
on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with
fruit which hung over her. Opposite was an elm en-
twined with a vine loaded with swelling grapes. She
praised the tree and its associated vine, equally. "But,"
said she, "if the tree stood alone, and had no vine cling-
ing to it, it would have nothing to attract or offer us
but its useless leaves. And equally the vine, if it were
not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the
ground. Why will you not take a lesson from the tree
and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some
one? I wish you would. Helen herself had not more
numerous suitors, nor Penelope, the wife of shrewd
Ulysses. Even while you spurn them, they court you,
rural deities and others of every kind that frequent
these mountains. But if you are prudent and want to
make a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise
you, who loves you better than you have any idea of,
dismiss all the rest and accept Vertumnus, on my
recommendation. I know him as well as he knovv^s him-
self. He is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these
mountains. Nor is he like too many of the lovers now-
adays, who love any ome they happen to see ; he loves
you, and you only. Add to this, he is young and hand-
some, and has the art of assuming any shape he pleases,
and can make himself just what you command him.
Moreover, he loves the same things that you do, de-
lights in gardening, and handles your apples with ad-
miration. But nozv he cares nothing for fruits nor
flowers, nor anything else, but only yourself. Take pity
on him, and fancy him speaking now with my mouth.

78 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that Venus
hates a hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner
or later. To prove this, let me tell you a story, which
is well known in Cyprus to be a fact ; and I hope it
will have the effect to make you more merciful.

"Iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who
saw and loved Anaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient
family of Teucer. He struggled long with his passion,
but when he found he could not subdue it, he came a
suppliant to her mansion. First he told his passion to
her nurse, a..d begged her as she loved her foster-child
to favor his suit. And then he tried to win her do-
mestics to his side. Sometimes he committed his vows
to written tablets, and often hung at her door garlands
which he had moistened with his tears. He stretched
himself on her threshold, and uttered his complaints to
the cruel bolts and bars. She was deafer than the
surges which rise in the November gale ; harder than
steel from the German forges, or a rock that still clings
to its native cliff. She mocked and laughed at him,
adding cruel words to her ungentle treatment, and gave
not the slightest gleam of hope.

'Tphis could not any longer endure the torments of
hopeless love, and, standing before her doors, he spake
these last words : 'Anaxarete, you have conquered, and
shall no longer have to bear my importunities. Enjoy
your triumph ! Sing songs of joy, and bind your fore-
head with laurel, you have conquered ! I die ; stony
heart, rejoice! This at least I can do to gratify you
and force you to praise me ; and thus shall I prove
that the love of you left me but with life. Nor will
I leave it to rumor to tell you of /my death. I will
come myself, and you shall see me/die, and feast your
eyes on the spectacle. Yet, O ye gods, who look down
on mortal woes, observe my fate ! I ask but this : let
me be remembered in coming ages, and add those years
to my fame which you have reft from my life.' Thus
he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping eyes
towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gate-
post, on which he had often hung garlands, and putting
his head into the noose, he murmured, 'This garland at

VERTUMNUS AND POMONA 79

least will please you, cruel girl !' and falling hung sus-
pended with his neck broken. As he fell he struck
against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a
groan. The servants opened the door and found him
dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and
carried him home to his mother, for his father was
not living. She received the dead hody of her son, and
folded the cold form to her bosom, while she poured
forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. The
mournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale
corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral
pile. By chance the home of Anaxarete was on the
street where the procession passed, and the lamentations
of the mourners met the ears of her whom the avenging
deity had already marked for punishment.

" 'Let us see this sad procession,' said she, and
mounted to a turret, whence through an open window
she looked upon the funeral. Scarce had her eyes rested
upon the form of Iphis stretched on the bier, when
they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body
to become cold. Endeavoring to step back, she found
she could not move her feet ; trying to turn away her
face, she tried in vain ; and by degrees all her limbs
became stony like her heart. That you may not doubt
the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in the
temple of Venus at Salamis, in the exact form of the
lady. Now think of these things, my dear, and lay
aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover.
So may neither the vernal frosts blight your young
fruits, nor furious winds scatter your blossoms !"

When Vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the
disguise of an old woman, and stood before her in his
proper person, as a comely youth. It appeared to her
like the sun bursting through a cloud. He would have
renewed his entreaties, but there was no need ; his argu-
ments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and
the Nymph no longer resisted, but owned a mutual
flame.

Pomona was the especial patroness of the Apple-
orchard, and as such she was invoked by Phillips, the

80 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

author of a poem on Cider, in blank verse. Thomson
in the "Seasons" alludes to him:

"Phillips, Pomona's bard, the second thou
Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse,
With British freedom, sing the British song."

But Pomona was also regarded as presiding over
other fruits, and as such is invoked by Thomson:

"Bear me, Pomona, to thy citron groves,
To where the lemon and the piercing lime,
With the deep orange, glowing through the green,
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined
Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes,
Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit."

CHAPTER XI

CUPID AND PSYCHE

A CERTAIN king and queen had three daughters. The
charms of the two elder were more than common, but
the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the
poverty of language is unable to express its due praise.
"The fame of her beauty was so great that strangers
from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy
the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her
that homage which is due only to Venus herself. In
fact Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned
their devotion to this young virgin. As she passed
i along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way
with chaplets and flowers.

This perversion of homage due only to the immortal
powers to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offence
to the real Venus. Shaking her ambrosial locks with
indignation, she exclaimed, "Am I then to be eclipsed
in my honors by a mortal girl? In vain then did that
royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove
himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious

UJ

o
a.

c
o
>-r>

V
R

3
03

bo

c

E
o

THE PSYCHE OF CAPUA.
From the sculpture of Praxiteles,

CUPID AND PSYCHE 81

rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly
usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so
unlawful a beauty."

Thereupon she calls her winged son Cupid, mischiev-
ous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes
him yet more by her complaints. She points out Psyche
to him and says, "My dear son, punish that contumacious
beauty ; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her in-
juries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty
girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so
that she may reap a mortification as great as her present
exultation and triumph."

Cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother.'
There are two fountains in Venus's garden, one of
sweet waters, the other of bitter. Cupid filled two am-
ber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them
from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber
of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few
drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the
sight of her almost moved him to pity ; then touched
her side with the point of his arrow. At the touch
she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid (himself in-
visible), which so startled him that in his confusion
he wounded himself v/ith his own arrow. Heedless of
his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the
mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops
of joy over all her silken ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, derived
no benefit from all her charms. True, all eyes were
cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises ;
but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented
himself to demand her in marriage. Her two elder
sisters of moderate charms had now long been married
to two royal princes ; but Psyche, in her lonely apart-
ment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which,
while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to
awaken love.

Her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred
the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo,
and received this answer : "The virgin is destined for
the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits

82 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom
neither gods nor men can resist."

This dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people
with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to
grief. But Psyche said, "Why, my dear parents, do
you now lament me? You should rather have grieved
when the people showered upon me undeserved honors,
and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive
that I am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me
to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."
Accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid
took her place in the procession, which more resembled
a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents,
amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the moun-
tain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and
with sorrowful hearts returned home.

While Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain,
panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle
Zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an
easy motion into a flowery dale. By degrees her mind
became composed, and she laid herself down on the
grassy bank to sleep. When she awoke refreshed with
sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant
grove of tall and stately trees. She entered it, and in
the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and
crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose
august front impressed the spectator that it was not the
work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some
god. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached
the building and ventured to enter. Every object she
met filled her with pleasure and amazement. Golden
pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were
enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts
of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the
eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceived
that besides the apartments of state there were others
filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and
precious productions of nature and art.

While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed
her, though she saw no one, uttering these words : "Sov-
ereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices

CUPID AND PSYCHE 83

you hear are your servants and shall obey all your com-
mands with our utmost care and diligence. Retire,
therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of
down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. Supper
awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you
to take your seat there."

Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal at-
tendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the
bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table imme-
diately presented itself, without any visible aid from
waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest deli-
cacies of food and the most nectareous wines. Her ears
too were feasted with music from invisible performers ;
of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all
closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.

She had not yet seen her destined husband. He came
only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn
of morning, but his accents were full of love, and in-
spired a like passion in her. She often begged him to
stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent.
On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt
to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of rea-
sons, to keep concealed. "Why should you wish to
behold me?" he said; "have you any doubt of my love?
have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, per-
haps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I
ask of you is to love me. I would rather you would
love me as an equal than adore me as a god."

This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time,
and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. But
at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance
of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing
with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her
mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a
splendid prison. When her husband came one night,
she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an
unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to
see her.

So, calling Zephyr, she acquainted him with her hus-
band's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon
brought them across the mountain down to their sis-

84 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

ter's valley. They embraced her and she returned their
caresses. "Come," said Psyche, "enter with me my
house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister
has to offer." Then taking their hands she led them
into her golden palace, and committed them to the care
of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh
them in her baths and at her table, and to show them
all her treasures. The view of these celestial delights
caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young
sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much
exceeding their own.

They asked her numberless questions, among others
what sort of a person her husband was. Psyche replied
that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the
daytime in hunting upon the mountains. The sisters,
not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that
she had never seen him. Then they proceeded to fill her
bosom with dark suspicions. "Call to mind," they said,
"the Pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry
a direful and tremendous monster. The inhabitants of
this valley say that your husband is a terrible and mon-
strous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with
dainties that he may by and by devour you. Take our
advice. Provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife;
put them in concealment that your husband may not
discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of
bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether
what they say is true or not. If it is, hesitate not to
cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your
liberty."

Psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could,
but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and
when her sisters were gone, their words and her own
curiosity were too strong for her to resist. So she
prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out
of sight of her husband. When he had fallen into his
first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp be-
held not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and
charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering
over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy
wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with

CUPID AND PSYCHE 85

shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring. As
she leaned the lamp over to have a nearer view of his
face a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the
god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed
them full upon her ; then, without saying one word, he
spread his white wings and flew out of the window.
Psyche, in v^.in endeavoring to follow him, fell from
the window to the ground. Cupid, beholding her as she
lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and
said, "O foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love?
After having disobeyed my mother's commands and
made you my wife, will you think me a monster and
cut off my head ? But go ; return to your sisters, whose
advice you seem to think preferable to mine. I inflict
no other punishment on you than to leave you forever.
Love cannot dwell with suspicion." So saying, he fled
away, leaving poor Psyche prostrate on the ground, fill-
ing the place with mournful lamentations.

When she had recovered some degree of composure
she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had
vanished, and she found herself in the open field not
far from the city where her sisters dwelt. She repaired
thither and told them the whole story of her misfor-
tunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful
creatures inwardly rejoiced. "For now," said they, "he
will perhaps choose one of us." With this idea, with-
out saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose
early the next morning and ascended the mountains, and
having reached the top, called upon Zephyr to receive
her and bear her to his lord ; then leaping up, and not
being sustained by Zephyr, fell down the precipice and
was dashed to pieces.

Psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without
food or repose, in search of her husband. Casting her
eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a mag-
nificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "Per-
haps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her
steps thither.

She had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of
corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with
mingled ears of barley. Scattered about, lay sickles and

86 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order,
as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands
in the sultry hours of the day.

This unseemly confusion the pious Psyche put an end
to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper
place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none
of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them
all in her behalf. The holy Ceres, whose temple it was,
finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her:
"O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannot
shield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach
you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and
voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sov-
ereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her
forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the
husband you have lost."

Psyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her
way to the temple of Venus, endeavoring to fortify her
mind and ruminating on what she should say and how
best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue
was doubtful and perhaps fatal.

Venus received her with angry countenance. "Most
undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you
at last remember that you really have a mistress? Or
have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid
up of the wound given him by his loving wife? You are-
so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you
can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and
diligence. I will make trial of your housewifery." Then
she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her
temple,' where was laid up a great quantity of wheat,
barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for
food for her pigeons, and said, "Ta^e and separate all
these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel
by themselves, and see that you get it done before even-
ing." Then Venus departed and left her to her task.

But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enor-
mous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a fin-
ger to the inextricable heap.

While she sat despairing, Cupid stirred up the little
ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her.

CUPID AND PSYCHE 87

The leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of
his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with
the utmost diligence, taking grain by grain, they sep-
arated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and
when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a
moment.

Venus at the approach of twilight returned from the
banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with
roses. Seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "This is
no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your
own and his misfortune you have enticed." So saying,
she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and
went away.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called
and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches
along the margin of the water. There you will find
sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining
fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of that
precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."

Psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to
do her best to execute the command. But the river god
inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which
seemed to say, "O maiden, severely tried, tempt not the
dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable
rams on the other side, for as long as they are under
the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel
rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude
teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle
to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled
them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will
find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the
trunks of the trees."

Thus the compassionate river god gave Psyche in-
structions how to accomplish her task, and by observ-
ing his directions she soon returned to Venus with her
arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not
the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said,
"I know very well it is by none of your own doings
that you have succeeded in this task, and I am not
satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make your-
self useful. But I have another task for you. Here,

88 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

take this box and go your way to the infernal shades,
and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress
Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty,
for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her
own.' Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint
myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and
goddesses this evening."

Psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at
hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly
down to Erebus. Wherefore, to make no delay of what
was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high
tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend
the shortest way to the shades below. But a voice from
the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, dost
thou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a
manner? And what cowardice makes thee sink under
this last danger who hast been so miraculously sup-
ported in all thy former?" Then the voice told her how
by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto,
and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass
by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on
Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river
and bring her back again. But the voice added, "When
Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty,
of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that
you never once open or look into the box nor allow your
curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the
goddesses."

Psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all
things, and taking heed to her ways travelled safely to
the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace
of Proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat
or delicious banquet that was offered /^ler, but contented
with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her mes-
sage from Venus. Presently the box was returned to
her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then
she returned the way she came, and glad was she to
come out once more into the light of day.

But having got so far successfully through her dan-
gerous task, a longing desire seized her to examine the
contents of the box. "What," said she, "shall I, the

CUPID AND PSYCHE . 89

carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to
put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the
eyes of my beloved husband !" So she carefully opened
the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all,
but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being
thus set free from its prison, took possession of her,
and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy
corpse without sense or motion.

But Cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and
not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved
Psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the win-
dow of his chamber which happened to be left open,
flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and gathering up the
sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and
waked Psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows.
"Again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by the
same curiosity. But now perform exactly the task im-
posed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the
rest."

Then Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the
heights of heaven, presented himself before Jupiter with
his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear, and plead-
ed the cause of the lovers so earnestly with Venus that
he won her consent. On this he sent Mercury to bring
Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she ar-
rived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "Drink
this. Psyche, and be immortal ; nor shall Cupid ever
break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these
nuptials shall be perpetual."

Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in
due time they had a daughter bom to them whose name
was Pleasure.

The fable of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered
allegorical. The Greek name for a butterfly is Psyche,
and the same word means the soul. There is no illus-
tration of the immortality of the soul so striking and
beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings
from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovel-
ling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day
and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions

90 -STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

of the spring-. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which
is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus
prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happi-
ness.

In works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden
with the wings of a butterfly, along with Cupid, in the
different situations described in the allegory.

Milton alludes to the story of Cupid and Psyche in
the conclusion of his "Comus" :

"Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced,
After her wandering labors long,
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal bride;
And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn."

The allegory of the story of Cupid and Psyche is well
presented in the beautiful lines of T. K. Harvey:

"They wove bright fables in the days of old,

When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings;
When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold,

And told in song its high and mystic things !
And such the sweet and solemn tale of her

The pilgrim heart, to whom a dream was given,
That led her through the world, Love's worshipper,

To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven !

"In the full city, by the haunted fount,

Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,
'Mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount.

Where silence sits to listen to the stars;
In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove,

The painted valley, and the scented Air,
She heard far echoes of the voice of Love,

And found his footsteps' traces everywhere.

"But nevermore they met ! since doubts and fears,
Those phantom shapes that haunt and blight the earth.

Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears,
And that bright spirit of immortal birth;

Until her pining soul and weeping eyes

Had learned to seek him only in the skies;

Till wings unto the weary heart were given,

And she became Love's angel bride in heaven!"

CADMUS 91

The story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the
works of Apuleius, a writer of the second century of
our era. It is therefore of much more recent date than
most of the legends of the Age of Fable. It is this
that Keats alludes to in his "Ode to Psyche":

"O latest born and loveliest vision far

Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-regioned star

Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,

Nor altar heaped with flowers ;
Nor virgin choir to make dehcious moan

Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet,

From chain-swung censor teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming."

In Moore's "Summer Fete" a fancy ball is described,
in which one of the characters personated is Psyche

"... not in dark disguise to-night
Hath our young heroine veiled her light;
For see, she walks the earth. Love's own.

His wedded bride, by holiest vow
Pledged in Olympus, and made known

To mortals by the type which now

Hangs glittering on her snowy brow.
That butterfly, mysterious trinket.
Which means the soul, (though few would think it,)
And sparkling thus on brow so white
Tells us we've Psyche here to-night."

CHAPTER XII

CADMUS THE MYRMIDONS

Jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried
away Europa, the daughter of Agenor, king of Phoe-
nicia. Agenor commanded his son Cadmus to go in
search of his sister, and not to return without her.
Cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister,

92 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

but could not find her, and not daring to return un-
successful, consulted the oracle of Apollo to know
what country he should settle in. The oracle informed
him that he should find a cow in the field, and should
follow her wherever she might wander, and where she
stopped, should build a city and call it Thebes. Cad-
mus had hardly left the Castalian cave, from which
the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young cow
slowly walking before him. He followed her close, of-
fering at the same time his prayers to Phoebus. The
cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of
Cephisus and came out into the plain of Panope. There
she stood still, and raising her broad forehead to the
sky, filled the air with her lowings. Cadmus gave
thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then
lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains.
Wishing to ofifer a sacrifice to Jupiter, he sent his serv-
ants to seek pure water for a libation. Near by there
stood an ancient grove which had never been profaned
Ly the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick cov-
ered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a low
arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of
purest water. In the cave lurked a horrid serpent with
a crested head and scales glittering like gold. His eyes
shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he
vibrated a triple tongue, and showed a triple row of
teeth. No sooner had the Tyrians dipped their pitchers
in the fountain, and the in-gushing waters made a sound,^
than the glittering serpent raised his head out of the^
cave and uttered a fearful hiss. The vessels fell from
their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled
in every limb. The serpent, twisting his scaly body
in a huge coil, raised his head so as/o overtop the tall-
est trees, and while the Tyrians from terror could
neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs, others
in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath.

Cadmus, having waited for the return of his men
till midday, went in search of them. His covering was
a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his
hand a lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer
reliance than either. When he entered the wood, and

CADMUS 93

saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with
his bloody jaws, he exclaimed, "O faithful friends, I
will avenge you, or share your death." So saying he
lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at
the serpent. Such' a block would have shaken the wall
of a fortress, but it made no impression on the monster.
Cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better
success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced
through to his entrails. Fierce with pain, the monster
turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted
to draw out the weapon with his mouth, but broke it off,
leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. His neck
swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and
the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. Now
he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself
out on the ground like the tnmk of a fallen tree. As
he moved onward, Cadmus retreated before him, hold-
ing his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws.
The serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to
bite its iron point. At last Cadmus, watching his chance,
thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head
thrown back came against the trunk of a tree, and so
succeeded in pinning him to its side. His weight bent
the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death.

While Cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contem-
plating its vast size, a voice was heard (from whence
he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding
him to take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the
earth. He obeyed. He made a furrow in the ground,
and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of
men. Scarce had he done so when the clods began to
move, and the points of spears to appear above the sur-
face. Next helmets with tiieir nodding plumes came
up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of men
with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors.
Cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy,
but one of them said to him, "Meddle not with our
civil war." With that he who had spoken smote one
of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he himself
fell pierced with an arrow from another. The latter
fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole

94 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

crowd dealt with each other till all fell, slain with mu-
tual wounds, except five survivors. One of these cast
away his weapons and said, "Brothers, let us live in
peace!" These five joined with Cadmus in building his
city, to which they gave the name of Thebes.

Cadmus obtained in marriage Harmonia, the daughter
of Venus. The gods left Olympus to honor the occa-
sion with their presence, and Vulcan presented the bride
with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own work-
manship. But a fatality hung over the family of Cad-
mus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to
Mars. Semele and Ino, his daughters, and Actseon and
Pentheus, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and
Cadmus and Harmonia quitted Thebes, now grown
odious to them, and emigrated to the country of the
Enchelians, who received them with honor and made
Cadmus their king. But the misfortunes of their chil-
dren still weighed upon their minds ; and one day Cad-
mus exclaimed, 'Tf a serpent's life is so dear to the
gods, I would I were myself a serpent." No sooner
had he uttered the words than he began to change his
form. Harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to
let her share his fate. Both became serpents. They
live in the woods, but mindful of their origin, they neither
avoid the presence of man nor do they ever injure any
one.

There is a tradition that Cadmus introduced into
Greece the letters of the alphabet which were invented
by the Phoenicians. This is alluded to by Byron, where,
addressing the modern Greeks, he says :

"You have the letters Cadmus gave,
Think you he meant them for / slave?"

Milton, describing the serpent which tempted Eve,
is reminded of the serpents of the classical stories and
says:

. . . " pleasing was his shape,
And lovely : never since of serpent kind
Lovelier; not those that in Illyria changed
Hermione and Cadmus, nor the god
In Epidaurus."

THE MYRMIDONS 95

For an explanation of the last allusion, see Oracle
of ^sculapius, p. 298.

THE MYRMIDONS

The Myrmidons were the soldiers of Achilles, in the
Trojan war. From them all zealous and unscrupulous
followers of a political chief are called by that name,
down to this day. But the origin of the Myrmidons
would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody race,
but rather of a laborious and peaceful one.

Cephalus, king of Athens, arrived in the island of
^gina to seek assistance of his old friend and ally
/Eacus, the kirg, in his war with Minos, king of Crete.
Cephalus was most kindly received, and the desired as-
sistance readily promised. "I have people enough," said
^F'acus, "to protect myself and spare you such a force
as you need." "I rejoice to see it," replied Cephalus,
"and my wonder has been raised, I confess, to find
such a host of youths as I see around me, all apparently
of about the same age. Yet there are many individuals
whom I previously knew, that I look for now in vain.
What has become of them?" Ziacus groaned, and re-
plied with a voice of sadness, "I have been intending
to tell you, and will now do so, without more delay,
that you may see how from the saddest beginning a
happy result sometimes flows. Those whom you for-
merly knew are now dust and ashes ! A plague sent
by angry Juno devastated the land. She hated it be-
cause it bore the name of one of her husband's female
favorites. While the disease appeared to spring from
natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by nat-
ural remedies ; but it soon appeared that the pestilence
was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded. At
the beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the
earth, and thick clouds shut in the heated air. For four
months together a deadly south wind prevailed. The
disorder affected the wells and springs : thousands of
snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in
the fountains. The force of the disease was first spent
on the lower animals dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds.
The luckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall

96 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

in the midst of their work, and lie helpless in the un-
finished furrow. The wool fell from the bleating sheep,
and their bodies pined away. The horse, once foremost
in the race, contested the palm no more, but groaned
at his stall and died an inglorious death. The wild
boar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears
no longer attacked the herds. Everything languished;
dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the woods;
the air was poisoned by them. I tell you what is hardly
credible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them,
nor starving wolves. Their decay spread the infection.
Next the disease attacked the country people, and then
the dwellers in the city. At first the cheek was flushed,
and the breath drawn with difficulty. The tongue grew
rough and swelled, and the dry mouth stood open with
its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. Men could
not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but
preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground
did not cool them, but, on the contrary, they heated the
spot where they lay. Nor could the physicians help,
for the disease attacked them also, and the contact of
the sick gave them infection, so that the most faithful
were the first victims. At last all hope of relief van-
ished, and men learned to look upon death as the only
deliverer from disease. Then they gave way to every
inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient,
for nothing was expedient. All restraint laid aside, they
crowded around the wells and fountains and drank till
they died, without quenching thirst. Many had not
strength to get away from the water, but died in the
midst of the stream, and others would drink of it not-
withstanding. Such was their weariness of their sick
beds that some would creep forth, ^d if not strong
enough to stand, Avould die on the ground. Thev
seemed to hate their friends, and got away from their
homes, as if. not knowing the cause of their sickness,
they charged it on the place of their abode. Some were
seen tottering along the road, as long as they could stand,
while others sank on the earth, and turned their dying
eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in
death.

THE MYRMIDONS 97

"What heart had I left me, during all this, or what
ought I to have had, except to hate life and wish to
be with my dead subjects? On all sides lay my people
strewn like over-ripened apples beneath the tree, or
acorns under the storm-shaken oak. You see yonder
a temple on the height. It is sacred to Jupiter. O how
many ottered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers
for sons, and died in the very act of supplication ! How
often, while the priest made ready for sacrifice, the vic-
tim fell, struck down by disease without waiting for
the blow ! At length all reverence for sacred things was
lost. Bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was
wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another
for the possession of them. Finally there v/ere none left
to mourn ; sons and husbands, old men and youths, per-
ished alike unlamented.

"Standing before the altar I raised my eyes to heaven.
'O Jupiter,' I said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and
art not ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my
people, or take me also away !' At these words a clap
of thunder was heard. 'I accept the omen,' I cried;
'O may it be a sign of a favorable disposition towards
me!' By chance there grew by the place where I stood
an oak with wide-spreading' branches, sacred to Jupiter.
I observed a troop of ants Imsy with their labor, carry-
ing minute grains in their mouths and following one
another in a line up the trunk of the tree. Observing
their numbers with admiration, I said, 'Give me, O
father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my
empty city.' The tree shook and gave a rustling sound
with its branches, though no wind agitated them. I
trembled in every limb, yet I kissed the earth and the
tree. I would not confess to myself that I hoped, yet
I did hope. Night came on and sleep took possession
of my frame oppressed with cares. The tree stood be-
fore me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all
covered with living, moving creatures. It seemed to
shake its limbs and throw down over the ground a mul-
titude of those industrious grain-gathering animals,
which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger and
larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their

98 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to
assume the human form. Then I awoke, and my first
impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed me of
a sweet vision and given me no reality in its place.
Being still in the temple, my attention was caught by
the sound of many voices without; a sound of late un-
usual to my ears. While I began to think I was yet
dreaming, Telamon, my son, throwing open the temple
gates, exclaimed : 'Father, approach, and behold things
surpassing even your hopes !' I went forth ; I saw a
multitude of men, such as I had seen in my dream, and
they were passing in procession in the same manner.
While I gazed with wonder and delight they approached
and kneeling hailed me as their king. I paid my vows
to Jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant city to the
new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them.
I called them Myrmidons, from the ant (myrmxcx) from
which they sprang. You have seen these persons ; their
dispositions resemble those which they had in their for-
mer shape. They are a diligent and industrious race,
eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains. Among
them you may recruit your forces. They will follow
you to the war, young in years and bold in heart."

This description of the plague is copied by Ovid from
the account which Thucydides, the Greek historian, gives
of the plague of Athens. The historian drew from
life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his
day, when they have had occasion to describe a simi-
lar scene, have borrowed their details from him.

CHAPTER Xnp^

NISUS AND SCYLLA ECHO AND NARCISSUS CLYTIE
HERO AND LEANDER

NISUS AND SCYLLA

MiNos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara. Nisus
was king of Megara, and Scylla was his daughter. The

NISUS AND SCYLLA 99

siege had now lasted six months and the city still held
out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be
taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered
among the hair of King Nisus, remained on his head.
There was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked
the plain where Minos and his army were encamped.
To this tower Scylla used to repair, and look abroad
over the tents of the hostile army. The siege had lasted
so long that she had learned to distinguish the persons
of the leaders. Minos, in particular, exci<"ed her ad-
miration. Arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his shield,
she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his
javelin skill seemed combined with force in the dis-
charge; if he drew his bow Apollo himself could not
have done it more gracefully. But when he laid aside
his helmet, and in his purple robes bestrode his white
horse with its gay caparisons, and reined in its foam-
ing mouth, the daughter of Nisus was hardly mistress
of herself; she was almost frantic with admiration.
She envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that
he held. She felt as if she could, if it were possible,
go to him through the hostile ranks ; she felt an im-
pulse to cast herself down from the tower into the midst
of his camp, or to open the gates to him. or to do any-
thing else, so only it might gratify Minos. As she sat
In the tower, she talked thus with herself : 'T know
not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad war. I
grieve that Minos is our enemy; but I rejoice at any
cause that brings him to my sight. Perhaps he would
be willing to grant us peace, and receive me as a
hostage. I would fly down, if I could, and alight in
his camp, and tell him that we yield ourselves to his
mercy. But then, to betray my fatlier! No! rather
would I never see Minos again. y\nd yet no doubt it
is sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered,
when the conqueror is clement and generous. Minos
certainly has right on his side. I think we shall be
conquered; and if that must be the end of it, why
should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of
Iea\ing it to be done by war? Better spare delay and
slaughter if we can. And O if any one should wound

100 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

or kill Minos ! No one surely would have the heart
to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him, one might.
I will, I will surrender myself to him, with my coun-
try as a dowry, and so put an end to the war. But
how? The gates are guarded, and my father keeps
the keys ; he only stands in my way. O that it might
please the gods to take him away ! But why ask the
gods to do it? Another woman, loving as I do, would
remove with her own hands whatever stood in the way
of her love. And can any other woman dare more
than I? I would encounter fire and sword to gain
my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword.
I only need my father's purple lock. More precious
than gold to me, that will give me all I wish."

While she thus reasoned night came on, and soon
the whole palace was buried in sleep. She entered
her father's bedchamber and cut off the fatal lock;
then passed out of the city and entered the enemy's
camp. She demanded to be led to the king, and thus
addressed him : 'T am Scylla, the daughter of Nisus.
I surrender to you my country and my father's house.
I ask no reward but yourself; for love of you I have
done it. See here the purple lock ! With this I give
you my father and his kingdom." She held out her
hand with the fatal spoil. Minos shrunk back and re-
fused to touch it. "The gods destroy thee, infamous
woman," he exclaimed ; "disgrace of our time ! May
neither earth nor sea yield thee a resting-place ! Surely,
my Crete, where Jove himself was cradled, shall not
be polluted with such a monster!" Thus he said, and
gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to
the conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately
sail from the island. /

Scylla was frantic. "Ungrateful man," she exclaimed,
"is it thus you leave me? me who have given you
victory, who have sacrificed for you parent and coun-
try ! I am guilty, I confess, and deserve to die, but
not by your hand." As the ships left the shore, she
leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the
one which carried Minos, she was borne along an un-
welcome companion of their course. A sea-eagle soar-

ECHO AND NARCISSUS 101

ing aloft, it was her father who had been changed
into that form, seeing her, pounced down upon her,
and struck her with his beak and claws. In terror
she let go the ship and would have fallen into the
water, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird.
The sea-eagle still cherishes the old animosity; and
whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may see
him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take
vengeance for the ancient crime.

ECHO AND NARCISSUS

Echo was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and
hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports.
She was a favorite of Diana, and attended her in the
chase. But Echo had one failing; she was fond of
talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have
the last word. One day Juno was seeking her husband,
who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself
among the nymphs. Echo by her talk contrived to de-
tain the goddess till the nymphs made their escape.
When Juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon Echo
in these words : "You shall forfeit the use of that
tongue with which you have cheated me, except for
that one purpose you are so fond of reply. You
shall still have the last word, but no power to speak
first."

This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he
pursued the chase upon the mountains. She loved him
and followed his footsteps. O how she longed to ad-
dress him in the softest accents, and win him to con-
verse ! but it was not in her power. She waited with
impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer
ready. One day the youth, being separated from his
companions, shouted aloud, "Who's here?" Echo re-
plied, "Here." Narcissus looked around, but seeing no
one called out, "Come." Echo answered, "Come." As
no one came. Narcissus called again, "Why do you
shun me?" Echo asked the same question. "Let us
join one another," said the youth. The maid an-
swered with all her heart in the same words, and hast-

102 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

ened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his
neck. He started back, exclaiming, "Hands off! I
would rather die than you should have me !" "Have
me," said she; but it was all in vain. He left her,
and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of
the woods. From that time forth she lived in caves
and among mountain cliffs. Her form faded with grief,
till at last all her flesh shrank away. Her bones were
changed into rocks and there was nothing left of her
but her voice. With that she is still ready to reply to
any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of
having the last word.

Narcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only in-
stance. He shunned all the rest of the nymphs, as
he had done poor Echo. One day a maiden who had
in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a prayer that
he might some tim.e or other feel what it was to love
and meet no return of affection. The avenging god-
dess heard and granted the prayer.

There was a clear fountain, with water like silver,
to which the shepherds never drove their flocks, nor
the mountain goats resorted, nor any of the beasts of
the forest; neither was it defaced with fallen leaves or
branches; but the grass grew fresh around it, and the
rocks sheltered it from the sun. Hither came one day
the youth, fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty.
He stooped down to drink, and saw his own image
in the water; he thought it was some beautiful water-
spirit living in the fountain. He stood gazing with
admiration at those bright eyes, those locks curled like
the locks of Bacchus or Apollo, the rounded cheeks,
the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of health
and exercise over all. He fell in Xove with himself.
He brought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his
arms in to embrace the beloved object. It fled at the
touch, but returned again after a moment and renewed
the fascination. He could not tear himself away; he
lost all thought of food or rest, while he hovered over
the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image.
He talked with the supposed spirit : "Why, beautiful
being, do you shun me? Surely my face is not one

ECHO AND NARCISSUS 103

ro repel you. The nymphs love me, and you your-
self look not indifferent upon me. When I stretch
forth my arms you do the same ; and you smile upon
me and answer my beckonings with the like." His tears
fell into the water and disturbed the image. As he
saw it depart, he exclaimed, "Stay, I entreat you ! Let
me at least gaze upon you, if I may not touch you."
With this, and much more of the same kind, he cher-
ished the flame that consumed him, so that by degrees
he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which for-
merly had so charmed the nymph Echo. She kept near
him, however, and when he exclaimed, "Alas ! alas !"
she answered him with the same words. He pined
away and died; and when his shade passed the Stygian
river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look of itself
in the waters. The nymphs mourned for him, espe-
cially the water-nymphs; and when they smote their
breasts Echo smote hers also. They prepared a funeral
pile and would have burned the body, but it was no-
where to be found; but in its place a flower, purple
within, and surrounded witli white leaves, which bears
the name and preserves the memory of Narcissus.

Milton alludes to the story of Echo and Narcissus in
the Lady's song in "Comus." She is seeking her
brothers in the forest, and sings to attract their at-
tention :

"Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy aery shell
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet-embroidered vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well;
Canst thou Jiot tell me of a gentle pair
That likcst thy Narcissus are?

O, if thou have
Hid them in some flowery cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere,
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies."

Milton has imitated the story of Narcissus in the
account which he makes Eve give of the first sight
of herself reflected in the fountain:

104 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"That day I oft remember when from sleep
I first awaked, and found myself reposed
Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved
Pure as the expanse of heaven ; I thither went
With unexperienced thought, and laid me down
On the green bank, to look into the clear
Smooth lake tliat to me seemed another sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite
A shape within the watery gleam appeared,
Bending to look on me. I started back;
It started back; but pleased I soon returned,
Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks
Of sympathy and love. There had I fixed
Mine eyes till now, and pined wi vain desire.
Had not a voice thus warned me : 'What thou seest,
What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself ;' " etc.

Paradise Lost, Book IV.

No one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener
alluded to by the poets than that of Narcissus. Here
are two epigrams which treat it in different ways. The
first is by Goldsmith :

"On a Beautiful Youth, struck Blind by Lightning

"Sure 'twas by Providence designed,
Rather in pity than in hate,
That he should be like Cupid blind.
To save him from Narcissus' fate."

The other is by Cowper:

"On an Ugly Fellow

"Beware, my friend, of crys;t4l brook
Or fountain, lest that hideous hook,

Thy nose, thou chance to see_;
Narcissus' fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou would'st pine,

As self-enamoured he."

CLYTIE

Clytie was a water-nymph and in love with Apollo,
who made her no return. So she pined away, sitting

HERO AND LEANDER 105

all day long upon the cold ground, with her unbound
tresses streaming over her shoulders. Nine days she
sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own tears
and the chilly dew her only food. She gazed on the
sun when he rose, and as he passed through his daily
course to his setting; she saw no other object, her face
turned constantly on him. At last, they say, her limbs
rooted in the ground, her face became a flower^ which
*urns on its stem so as always to face the sun through-
out its daily course ; for it retains to that extent the
feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang.

Hood, in his "Flowers," thus alludes to Clytie:

"I will not have the mad Clytie,

Whose head is turned by the sun;
The tulip is a courtly quean,

Whom therefore I will shun ;
The cowslip is a country wench,

The violet is a nun ;
But I will woo the dainty rose,

The queen of every one."

The sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy.
Thus Moore uses it :

"The heart that has truly loved never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close ;
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look that she turned when he rose."

HERO AND LEANDER

Leander was a youth of Abydos, a town of the
Asian side of the strait which separates Asia and Eu-
rope. On the opposite shore, in the town of Sestos,
lived the maiden Hero, a priestess of Venus. Leander
loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy
the company of his mistress, guided by a torch which
she reared upon the tower for the purpose. But one
night a tempest arose aijd the sea was rough ; his
strength failed, and he was drowned. The waves bore
his body to the European shore, where Hero became

^ The sunflower.

106 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

aware of his death, and in her despair cast herself
down from the tower into the sea and perished.

The following sonnet is by Keats:

"On a Picture of Leander

"Come hither all sweet maidens soberly,

Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light
Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white,

And meekly let your fair hands joined be.

As if so gentle that ye could not see,

Untouch'd. a victim of your beauty bright,
Sinking away to his young spirit's night.

Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea.

'T is young Leander toiling to his death.

Nigh swooning he doth purse his weary lips

For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile.
O horrid dream! see how his body dips

Dead-heavy; ar-.is and shoulders gleam awhile;

He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!"

The story of Leander's sv/imming the Hellespont was
looked upon as fabulous, and the feat considered
impossible, till Lord Byron proved its possibility by
performing it himself. In the "Bride of Abydos" he
says,

"These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne."

The distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile,
and there is a constant current setting out from the
Sea of Marmora into the Archipelago. Since Byron's
time the feat has been achieved by others ; but it yet
remains a test of strength and skill in the art of swim-
ming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to
any one of our readers who may dare to make the at-
tempt and succeed in accomplishing it.

In the beginning of the second canto of the same poem,
Byron thus alludes to this story :

"The winds are high on Helle's wave,
As on that night of stormiest water.
When Love, who sent, forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave.
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.

MINERVA 107

O, when alone along the sky

The turret-torch was blazing high.

Though rising gale and breaking foam,

And shrieking sea-birds warned him home;

And clouds aloft and tides below,

With signs and sounds forbade to go,

He could not see, he would not hear

Or sound or sight foreboding fear.

His eye but saw that light of love,

The only star it hailed above;

His ear but rang with Hero's song,

'Ye waves, divide not lovers long.'

That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove as true."

CHAPTER XIV

MINERVA NIOBE

MINERVA

Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter
of Jupiter. She was said to have leaped forth from
his brain, mature, and in complete armor. She presided
over the useful and ornamental arts, both those of men
such as agriculture and navigation and those of
women, spinning, weaving, and needlework. She was
also a warlike divinity; but it was defensive war only
that she patronized, and she had no sympathy with
Mars's savage love of violence and bloodshed. Athens
was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to her as the
prize of a contest with Neptune, who also aspired to
it. The tale ran that in the reign of Cecrops, the first
king of Athens, the two deities contended for the pos-
session of the city. The gods decreed that it should
be awarded to that one who produced the gift most
Useful to mortals. Neptune gave the horse; Minerva
produced the olive. The gods gave judgment that the
olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the
city to the goddess ; and it was named after her, Athens,
her name in Greek being Athene.

There was another contest, in which a mortal dared

108 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

to come in competition with Minerva. That mortal was
Arachne, a maiden who had attained such skill in the
arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs them-
selves would leave their groves and fountains to come
and gaze upon her work. It was not only beautiful
when it was done, but beautiful also in the doing. To
watch her, as she took the wool in its rude state and
formed it into rolls, or separated it with her fingers
and carded it till it looked as light and soft as a cloud,
or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the
web, or, after it was woven, adorned it with her needle,
one would have said that Minerva herself had taught
her. But this she denied, and could not bear to be
thought a pupil even of a goddess. "Let Minerva try
her skill with mine," said she; "if beaten I will pay the
penalty." Minerva heard this and was displeased. She
assumed the form of an old woman and went and gave
Arachne some friendly advice. "I have had much ex-
perience," said she, "and I hope you will not despise
my counsel. Challenge your fellow-mortals as you will,
but do not compete with a goddess. On the contrary,
I advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you have
said, and as she is merciful perhaps she will pardon
you." Arachne stopped her spinning and looked at the
old dame with anger in her countenance. "Keep your
counsel," said she, "for your daugliters or handmaids ;
for my part I know what I say, and I stand to it. I
am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill,
if she dare venture." "She comes," said Minerva; ani
dropping her disguise stood confessed. The nymphs
bent low in homage, and all the bystanders paid rever-
ence. Arachne alone was unterrified./ She blushed, in-
deed ; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew
pale. But she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish
conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate. Minerva
forbore no longer nor interposed any further advice.
They proceed to the contest. Each takes her station
and attaches the web to the beam. Then the slender
shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The
reed with its fine teeth, strikes up the woof into its
place and compacts the web. Both work with speed;

MINERVA 109

their skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of
the contest makes the labor light. Wool of Tyrian dye
is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded off into
one another so adroitly that the joinino^ deceives the eye.
Like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed
by sunbeams reflected from the shower,^ in which, where
the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little dis-
tance from the point of contact are wholly different.

Minerva wrought on her web the scene of her con-
test with Neptune. Twelve .of the heavenly powers are
represented, Jupiter, with august gravity, sitting in the
midst. Neptune, the ruler of the sea, holds his trident,
and appears to have just smitten the earth, from which
a horse has leaped forth. Minerva depicted herself
with helmed head, her ^gis covering her breast. Such
was the central circle ; and in the four corners were rep-
resented incidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods
at such presumptuous mortals as had dared to contend
with them. These were meant as warnings to her rival
to give up the contest before it was too late.

Arachne filled her web with subjects designedly
chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods.
One scene represented Leda caressing the swan, under
which form Jupiter had disguised himself; and another,
Danae, in the brazen tower in which her father had
imprisoned her, but where the god effected his entrance
in the form of a golden shower. Still another depicted
Europa deceived by Jupiter under the disguise of a
bull. Encouraged by the tameness of the animal Europa
Ventured to mount his back, whereupon Jupiter ad-
vanced into the sea and swam with her to Crete. You
would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was
it wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam.
She seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the
shore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for
help. She appeared to shudder with terror at the sight
of the heaving waves, and to draw back her feet from
the water.

Arachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, won-

^ This correct description of the rainbow is literally translated from
Ovid.

110 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

derfully well done, but strongly marking her presump-
tion and impiety. Minerva could not forbear to admire,
yet felt indignant at the insult. She struck the web with
her shuttle and rent it in pieces; she then touched the
forehead of Arachne and made her feel her guilt and
shame. She could not endure it and went and hanged
herself. Minerva pitied her as she saw her suspended
by a rope. "Live," she said, "guilty woman ! and that
you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue
to hang, both you and your descendants, to all future
times." She sprinkled her with the juices of aconite,
and immediately her hair came off, and her nose and
ears likewise. Her form shrank up, and her head grew
smaller yet; her fingers cleaved to her side and served
for legs. All the rest of her is body, out of which she
spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in the
same attitude as when Minerva touched her and trans-
formed her into a spider.

Spenser tells the story of Arachne in his "Muiopot*
mos," adhering very closely to his master Ovid, but
improving upon him in the conclusion of the story.
The two stanzas which follow tell what was done after
the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive tree:

"Amongst these leaves she made a Butterfly,
With excellent device and wondrous slight,
Fluttering among the olives vv^antonly,
That seemed to live, so like it was in sight;
The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,
The silken down with which his back is dight,
His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs,
His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes."^

"Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid
And njastered with workmanship so rare,
She stood astonied long, ne aught gainsaid;
And with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare,
And by her silence, sign of one dismayed,
The victory did yield her as her share:
Yet did she inly fret and felly burn,
And all her blood to poisonous rancor turn."

* Sir James Mackintosh says of this, "Do you think that even a Chinese
could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more minute exactness than
the following lines: 'The velvet nap,' etc.?" Life, Vol. II.. 246.

NIOBE 111

And so the metamorphosis is caused by Arachne's own
mortification and vexation, and not by any direct act
of the goddess.

The following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is
by Garrick :

"Upon a Lady's Embroidery

"Arachne once, as poets tell,
A goddess at her art defied,
And soon the daring mortal fell
The hapless victim of her pride.

"O, then beware Arachne's fate;

Be prudent, Chloe, and submit.
For you'll most surely meet her hate.
Who rival both her art and wit."

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art," describing the
works of art with which the palace was adorned, thus
alludes to Europa :

". . . sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasped
From off her shoulder, backward borne.
From one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped
The mild bull's golden horn."

In his "Princess" there is this allusion to Danae:

"Now lies the earth all Danae to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me."

NIOBE

The fate of Arachne was noised abroad through all
the country, and served as a warning to all presump-
tuous mortals not to compare themselves with the divini-
ties. But one, and she a matron too, failed to learn
the lesson of humility. It was Niobe, the queen of
Thebes. She had indeed much to be proud of ; but it
was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor
their great descent, nor the power of their kingdom that
elated her. It was her children ; and truly the happiest
of mothers would Niobe have been if only she had not
claimed to be so. It was on occasion of the annual cele-

112 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

bration in honor of Latona and her offspring, Apollo
and Diana, when the people of Thebes were assem-
bled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankin-
cense to the altars and paying their vows, that Niobe
appeared among the crowd. Her attire was splendid with
gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face of
an angry woman can be. She stood and surveyed the
people with haughty looks. "What folly," said she, "is
this ! to prefer beings whom you never saw to those
who stand before your eyes ! Why should Latona be
honored with worship, and none be paid to me? My
father was Tantalus, who was received as a guest at the
table of the gods ; my mother was a goddess. My hus-
band built and rules this city, Thebes, and Phrygia is
my paternal inheritance. Wherever I turn my eyes I
survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and
presence unworthy of a goddess. To all this let me add
I have seven sons and seven daughters, and look for
sons-in-law and daughters-in-law of pretensions worthy
of my alliance. Have I not cause for pride? Will you
prefer to me this Latona, the Titan's daughter, with
her two children? I have seven times as m,any. For-
tunate indeed am I, and fortunate I shall remain ! Will
any one deny this? My abundance is my security. I
feel myself too strong for Fortune to subdue. She may
take from me much; I shall still have much left. Were
I to lose some of my children, I should hardly be left
as poor as Latona with her two only. Away with you
from these solemnities, put off the laurel from your
brows, have done with this worship !" The people
obeyed, and left the sacred services uncompleted.

The goddess was indignant. On the Cynthian moun-
tain top where she dwelt she thus addressed her son and
daughter: "My children, I who have been so proud of
you both, and have been used to hold myself second
to none of the goddesses except Juno alone, begin now
to doubt whether I am indeed a goddess. I shall be de-
prived of my worship altogether unless you protect me."
She was proceeding in this strain, but ,ApQll interrupted
her. "Say no more/' said he; "speech only delays pun-
ishment." So said Diana also. Darting through the air,

NIOBE 113

veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of the city.
Spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where
the youth of the city pursued their warlike sports. The
sons of Niobe were there with the rest, some mounted
on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay
chariots. Ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foam-
ing steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out,
"Ah me !" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. Another,
hearing the sound of the bow, like a boatman who sees
the storm gathering and makes all sail for the port,
gave the reins to his horses and attempted to escape.
The inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. Two
others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to
the playground to have a game of wrestling. As they
stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both.
They uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look
around them, and together breathed their last. Al-
phenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to
the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the
act of brotherly duty. One only was left, Ilioneus. He
raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might
not avail. "Spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing
all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions ;
and Apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had
already left the string, and it was too late.

The terror of the people and grief of the attendants
soon made Niobe acquainted with what had taken place.
She could hardly think it possible; she was indignant
that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been
able to do it. Her husband, Amphion, overwhelmed
with the blow, destroyed himself. Alas ! how different
was this Niobe from her who had so lately driven away
the people from the sacred rites, and held her stately
course through the city, the envy of her friends, now
the pity even of her foes! She knelt over the lifeless
bodies, and kissed now one, now another of her dead
sons. Raising her pallid arms to heaven, "Cruel La-
tona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish!
Satiate your hard heart, while I follow to the grave my
seven sons. Yet where is your triumph? Bereaved as
J. am, I am still richer than you, my conqueror." Scarce

114 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck ter-
ror into all hearts except Niobe's alone. She was brave
from excess of grief. The sisters stood in garments
of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. One
fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she
was bewailing. Another, attempting to console her
mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to
the earth. A third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by
concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what
course to take. Six were now dead, and only one re-
mained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and
covered as it were with her whole body. "Spare me
one, and that the youngest! O spare me one of so
many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell
dead. Desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, hus-
band, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. The
breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek,
her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign
of life about her. Her very tongue cleaved to the roof
of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide
of life. Her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture,
her foot no step. She was changed to stone, within and
without. Yet tears continued to flow; and borne on a
whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a
mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the
tribute of her never-ending grief.

The story of Nicbe has furnished Byron with a fine
illustration of the fallen condition of modern Rome:

"The Niobe of nations! there she stands,
Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe;
An empty urn within her withered hands,
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ;
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now :
The very sepulchres lie tenantless
Of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow,
Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness?
Rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress."

Childe Harold, IV. 79.

This affecting story has been made the subject of a
celebrated statue in the imperial gallery of Florence. It

THE GR^^ AND THE GORGONS 115

is the principal figure of a group supposed to have been
originally arranged in the pediment of a temple. The
figure of the mother clasped by the arm of her terrified
child is one of the most admired of the ancient statues.
It ranks with the Laocoon and the Apollo among the
masterpieces of art. The following is a translation of
a Greek epigram supposed to relate to this statue :

"To stone the gods have changed her. but in vain;
The sculptor's art has made her breathe again."

Tragic as is the story of Niobe, we cannot forbear
to smile at the use Moore has made of it in "Rhymes
on the Road" :

" 'Twas in his carriage the sublime
Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme,
And, if the wits don't do him wrong,
'Twixt death and epics passed his time,
ScribbHng and killing all day long;

Like Phoebus in his car at ease,
Now warbling forth a lofty song,
Now murdering the young Niobes."

Sir Richard Blackmore was a physician, and at the
same time a very prolific and very tasteless poet, whose
works are now forgotten, unless when recalled to mind
by some wit like Moore for the sake of a joke.

CHAPTER XV

THE GR^^ OR GRAY-MAIDS PERSEUS MEDUSA

ATLAS A N DRO M ED A

THE GR.EyE AND THE GORGONS

The Grsece were three sisters who were gray-haired
from their birth, whence their name. The Gorgons were
monstrous females with huge teeth like those of swine,
brazen claws, and snaky hair. None of these beings

116 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

make much figure in mythology except Medusa, the Gor-
gon, whose story we shall next advert to. We mention
them chiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some
modern writers, namely, that the Gorgons and Grseas
were only personifications of the terrors of the sea,
the former denoting the strong billows of the wide open
main, and the latter the z;/i7^(?-c rested waves that dash
against the rocks of the coast. Their names in Greek
signify the above epithets.

PERSEUS AND MEDUSA

Perseus was the son of Jupiter and Danae. His grand-
father Acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told
.him that his daughter's child would be the instrument of
his death, caused the mother and child to be shut up in
a chest and set adrift on the sea. The chest floated
towards Seriphus, where it was found by a fisherman
wdio conveyed the mother and infant to Polydectes, the
king of the country, by whom they were treated with
kindness. When Perseus was grown up Polydectes sent
him to attempt the conquest of Medusa, a terrible mon-
ster who had laid wai;te the country. She was once
a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but
as she dared to vie in beauty with Minerva, the goddess
deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful
ringlets into hissing serpents. She became a cruel mon-
ster of so frightful an aspect that no living thing could
behold her without being turned into stone. All around
the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the stony
figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch
a glimpse of her and had been petrifi/d with the sight.
Perseus, favored by Minerva and Mercury, the former
of whom lent him her shield and the latter his winged
shoes, approached Medusa while she slept, and taking
care not to look directly at her, but guided by her image
reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut ofif
her head and gave it to Minerva, who fixed it in the
middle of her ^gis.

Milton, in his "Comus," thus alludes to the ^gis:

PERSEUS AND ATLAS 117

"What was that snaky-headed Gorgon-shield
That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace that dashed brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank awe!"

Armstrong, the poet of the "Art of Preserving
Heahh," thus describes the eft'ect of frost upon the
waters :

"Now blows the surly North and chills throughout
The stiffening regions, while by stronger charms
Than Circe e'er or fell Medea brewed,
Each brook that wont to prattle to its banks
Lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks,
Nor moves the withered reeds . . .
The surges baited by the fierce North-east,
Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads.
E'en in the foam of all their madness struck
To monumental ice.

Such execution,
So stem, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect
Of terrible Medusa,

When wandering through the woods she turned to stone
Their savage tenants; just as the foaming Lion
Sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power
Outran his haste.

And fixed in that fierce attitude he stands
Like Rage in marble !"

Imitations of Shakspeare.

PERSEUS AND ATLAS

After the slaughter of Medusa, Perseus, bearing with
him the head of the Gorgon, flew far and wide, over
land and sea. As night came on, he reached the western
limit of the earth, where the sun goes down. Here he-
would gladly have rested till morning. It was the realm;
of King Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other
men. He was rich in flocks and herds and had no
neighbor or rival to dispute his state. But his chief
pride was in his gardens, whose fruit was of gofd, hang-
ing from golden branches, half hid with golden leaves.
Perseus said to him, "I come as a guest. If you honor
illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my father; if.

118 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

mighty deeds, I plead the conquest of the Gorgon. I
seek rest and food." But Atlas remembered that an an-
cient prophecy had warned him that a son of Jove should
one day rob him of his golden apples. So he answered,
"Begone ! or neither your false claims of glory nor par-
entage shall protect you;" and he attempted to thrust
him out. Perseus, finding the giant too strong for him,
said, "Since you value my friendship so little, deign to
accept a present;" and turning his face away, he held
up the Gorgon's head. Atlas, with all his bulk, was
changed into stone. His beard and hair became forests,
his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a summit, and
his bones rocks. Each part increased in bulk till he be-
came a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the
gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his shoulders.

THE SEA- MONSTER

Perseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country
of the Ethiopians, of which Cepheus was king. Cas-
siopeia his queen, proud of her beauty, had dared to
compare herself to the Sea-Nymphs, which roused their
indignation to such a degree that they sent a prodigious
sea-monster to ravage the coast. To appease the deities,
Cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his
daughter Andromeda to be devoured by the monster.
As Perseus looked down from his aerial height he beheld
the virgin chained to a rock, and waiting the approach of
the serpent. She was so pale and motionless that if it
had not been for her flowing tears and her hair that
moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a
marble statue. He was so startled at the sight that he al-
most forgot to wave his wings. As he hovered over her
he said, "O virgin, undeserving of those chains, but
rather of such as bind fond lovers together, tell me, I
beseech you, your name, and the name of your country,
and why you are thus bound." At first she was silent
from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her
face with her hands ; but when he repeated his questions,
for fear she might be thought guilty of some fault which
she dared not tell, she disclosed her name and that of

THE SEA-MONSTER 119

her country, and her mother's pride of beauty. Before
she had done speaking, a sound was heard oft upon the
water, and the sea-monster appeared, with his head
raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his
broad breast. The virgin shriel<ed, the father and mother
who had now arrived at the scene, wretched both, but
the mother more justly so, stood by, not able to afford
protection, but only to pour forth lamentations and to
embrace the victim. Then spoke Perseus : "There will
be time enough for tears ; this hour is all we have for
rescue. My rank as the son of Jove and my renown as
the slayer of the Gorgon might make me acceptable as
a suitor ; but I will try to win her by services rendered,
if the gods will only be propitious. If she be rescued by
my valor, I demand that she be my reward." The par-
ents consent (how could they hesitate?) and promise a
royal dowry with her.

And now the monster was within the range of a stone
thrown by a skilful slinger, when with a sudden bound
the youth soared into the air. As an eagle, when from
his lofty flight he sees a serpent basking in the sun,
pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to prevent
him from turning his head round and using his fangs,
so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster
and plunged his sword into its shoulder. Irritated by
the wound, the monster raised himself in the air, then
plunged into the depth ; then, like a wild boar surrounded,
by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly from side to
side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of his
wings. Wherever he can find a passage for his sword
between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now the
side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail. The
brute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood.
The wings of the hero are wet with it, and he dares no
longer trust to them. Alighting on a rock which rose
above the waves, and holding on by a projecting frag-
ment, as the monster floated near he gave him a death
stroke. The people who h.ad gathered on the shore
shouted so that the hills reechoed the sound. The par-
ents, transported with joy, eml)raced their future son-in-
law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their

120 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

house, and the virgin, both cause and reward of the con-
test, descended from the rock.

Cassiopeia was an Ethiopian, and consequently, in
spite of her boasted beauty, black; at least so Milton
seems to have thought, who alludes to this story in his
"Penseroso," where he addresses Melancholy as the

". . . . goddess, sage and holy,
Whose saintly visage is too bright
To hit the pcnse of human sight.
And, therefore, to our weaker view
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.
Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,
Or that starred ^thiop queen that strove
To set her beauty's praise above
The sea-nymphs, and their powers oflfended."

Cassiopeia is called "the starred ^thiop queen" be-
cause after her death she was placed among the stars,
forming the constellation of that name. Though she
attained this honor, yet the Sea-Nymphs, her old ene-
mies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that
part of the heaven near the pole, where every night she
is half the time held with her head downward, to give
her a lesson of humility.

Memnon was an /Ethiopian prince, of whom we
shall tell in a future chapter.

THE WEDDING FEAST

The joyful parents, with Perseus/and Andromeda,
repaired to the palace, where a banquet was spread for
them, and all was joy and festivity. But suddenly a
noise was heard of warlike clamor, and Phineus, the
betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his adherents,
burst in, demanding the maiden as his own. It was in
vain that Cepheus remonstrated "You should have
claimed her when she lay bound to the rock, the mon-
ster's victim. The sentence of the gods dooming her to
such a fate dissolved all engagements, as death itself

THE WEDDING FEAST 121

would have done." Phineus made no reply, but hurled
his javelin at Perseus, but it missed its mark and fell
harmless. Perseus would have thrown his in turn, but
the cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the
altar. But his act was a signal for an onset by his band
upon the guests of Cepheus. They defended themselves
and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating
from the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the
gods to witness that he was guiltless of this outrage on
the rights of hospitality.

Perseus and his friends maintained for some time the
unequal contest; but the numbers of the assailants were
too great for them, and destruction seemed inevitable,
when a sudden thought struck Perseus, 'T will make
my enemy defend me." Then with a loud voice he ex-
claimed, 'Tf I have any friend here let him turn away
his eyes !" and held aloft the Gorgon's head. "Seek not
to frighten us with your jugglery," said Thescelus, and
raised his javelin in act to throw, and became stone in the
very attitude. Ampyx was about to plunge his sword
into the body of a prostrate foe, but his arm stiffened
and he could neither thrust forward nor withdraw it.
Another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge, stopped,
his mouth open, but no sound issuing. One of Perseus's
friends, Aconteus, caught sight of the Gorgon and stiff-
ened like the rest. Astyages struck him with his sword,
but instead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing
noise.

Phineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust ag-
gression, and felt confounded. He called aloud to his
friends, but got no answer; he touched them and found
them stone. Falling on his knees and stretching out his
hands to Perseus, but turning his head away he begged
for mercy. "Take all," said he, "give me but my life."
"Base coward," said Perseus, "thus much I will grant
you ; no weapon shall touch you ; moreover, you shall
be preserved in my house as a memorial of these events."
So saying, he held the Gorgon's head to the side where
Phineus was looking, and in the very form in which he
knelt, with his hands outstretched and face averted, he
became fixed immovably, a mass of stone !

122 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The following allusion to Perseus is from Milman's
"Samor" :

"As 'mid the fabled Lib3'an bridal stood
Perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath,
Half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes
Out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield
Looked into stone the raging fray ; so rose,
But with no magic arms, wearing alone
Th' appalling and control of his tirm look,
The Briton Samor; at his rising awe
Went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute."

CHAPTER XVI

MONSTERS

GIANTS, SPHINX, PEGASUS AND CHIMERA, CENTAURS,
GRIFFIN, AND PYGMIES

Monsters, in the language of mythology, were beings
of unnatural proportions or parts, usually regarded with
terror, as possessing immense strength and ferocity,
which they employed for the injury and annoyance of
men. Some of them were supposed to combine the mem-
bers of different animals; such were the Sphinx and
Chimasra; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild
beasts were attributed, together with human sagacity and
faculties. Others, as the giants, differed from men chiefly
in their size; and in this particular we must recognize
a wide distinction among them. The human giants, if
so they may be called, such as the ^elopes, Antaeus,
Orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether
disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in
love and strife with them. But the superhuman giants,
who warred with the gods, were of vastly larger dimen-
sions. Tityus, we are told, when stretched on the plain,
covered nine acres, and Enceladus required the whole of
Mount vEtna to be laid upon him to keep him down.

We have already spoken of the war which the giants
waged against the gods, and of its result. While this

THE SPHLNX 123

war lasted the giants proved a formidable enemy. Some
of them, like Briareus, had a hundred arms ; others, like
Typhon, breathed out fire. At one time they put the gods
to such fear that they fled into Egypt and hid them-
selves under various forms. Jupiter took the form of a
ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in Egypt as
the god Ammon, with curved horns. Apollo became a
crow, Bacchus a goat, Diana a cat, Juno a cow, Venus a
fish, Mercury a bird. At another time the giants at-
tempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose
took up the mountain Ossa and piled it on Pelion.^
They were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which Min-
erva invented, and taught Vulcan and his Cyclopes to
make for Jupiter.

THE SPHINX

Laius, king of Thebes, was warned by an oracle that
there was danger to his throne and life if his new-born
son should be suiTered to grow up. He therefore commit-
ted the child to the care of a herdsman with orders to de-
stroy him ; but the herdsman, moved with pity, yet not
daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child by the feet
and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. In this
condition the infant was found by a peasant, who car-
ried him to his master and mistress, by whom he was
adopted and called QLdipus, or Swollen-foot.

Many years afterwards Laius being on his way to
Delphi, accompanied only by one attendant, met in a nar-
row road a young man also driving in a chariot. On his
refusal to leave the way at their command the attendant
killed one of his horses, and the stranger, filled with rage,
slew both Laius and his attendant. The young man was
CEdipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of
his own father.

Shortly after this event the city of Thebes was afiflicted
with a monster which infested the highroad. It was
called the Sphinx. It had the body of a lion and the
upper part of a woman. It lay crouched on the top of
a rock, and arrested all travellers who came that way,

^ See Proverbial E.xpressions.

124 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that those
who could solve it should pass safe, but those who
failed should be killed. Not one had yet succeeded
in solving it, and all had been slain. (Edipus was not
daunted by these alarming accounts, but boldly advanced
to the trial. The Sphinx asked him, "What animal is
that which in the morning goes on four feet, at noon on
two, and in the evening upon three?" QEdipus replied,
"Man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in
manhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid, of a
staff." The Sphinx was so mortified at the solving of
her riddle that she cast herself down from the rock and
perished.

The gratitude of the people for their deliverance was
so great that they made Qidipus their king, giving him
in marriage their queen Jocasta. GEdipus, ignorant of
his parentage, had already become the slayer of his fa-
ther; in marrying the queen he became the husband of
his mother. These horrors remained undiscovered, till at
length Thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence,
and the oracle being consulted, the double crime of
CEdipus came to light. Jocasta put an end to her own
life, and Oedipus, seized with madness, tore out his eyes
and wandered away from Thebes, dreaded and aban-
doned by all except his daughters, who faithfully ad-
hered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable
wandering he found the termination of his wretched
life.

PEGASUS AND THE CHIMERA

When Perseus cut off Medusa's head, the blood sink-
ing into the earth produced the winge'd horse Pegasus.
Minerva caught him and tamed him and presented him
to the Muses. The fountain Hippocrene, on the Muses'
mountain Helicon, was opened by a kick from his hoof.

The Chimsera was a fearful monster, breathing fire.
The fore part of its body was a compound of the lion
and the goat, and the hind part a dragon's. It made
great havoc in Lycia, so that the king, lobates, sought
for some hero to destroy it. At that time there arrived
at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was

PEGASUS AND THE CHIMERA 125

Bellerophon. He brought letters from Proetus, the son-
in-law of lobates, recommending Bellerophon in the
warmest terms as an unconquerable hero, but added at
the close a request to his father-in-law to put him to
death. The reason was that Proetus was jealous of him,
suspecting that his wife Antea looked with too much ad-
miration on the young warrior. From this instance of
Bellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own
death warrant, the expression "Bellerophontic letters"
arose, to describe any species of communication which a
person is made the bearer of, containing matter preju-
dicial to himself.

lobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to
do, not willing to violate the claims of hospitality, yet
wishing to oblige his son-in-law. A lucky thought oc-
curred to him, to send Bellerophon to combat with the
Chimsera. Bellerophon accepted the proposal, but be-
fore proceeding to the combat consulted the soothsayer
Polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the
horse Pegasus for the conflict. For this purpose he
directed him to pass the night in the temple of Minerva.
He did so, and as he slept Minerva came to him and gave
him a golden bridle. When he awoke the bridle re-
mained in his hand. Minerva also showed him Pegasus
drinking at the well of Pirene, and at sight of the bridle
the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to
be taken. Bellerophon mounted him, rose with him into
the air, soon found the Chimaera, and gained an easy
victory over the monster.

After the conquest of the Chimcera Bellerophon was
exposed to further trials and labors by his unfriendly
host, but by the aid of Pegasus he triumphed in them
all, till at length lobates, seeing that the hero was a
special favorite of the gods, gave him his daughter in
marriage and made him his successor on the throne. At
last Bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew
upon himself the anger of the gods ; it is said he even
attempted to fly up into heaven on his winged steed, but
Jupiter sent a gadfly which stung Pegasus and made
him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in con-
sequence. After this Bellerophon wandered lonely

126 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

through the Aleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and
'iied miserably.

Milton alludes to Bellerophon in the beginning of the
seventh book of "Paradise Lost" :

"Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing.

Upled by thee.
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air
(Thy tempering) ; with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element ;
Lest from this flying steed unreined (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower sphere),
Dismounted on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander and forlorn."

Young, in his "Night Thoughts," speaking of the
sceptic, says :

"He whose blind thought futurity denies,
Unconscious bears, Bellerophon, like thee
His own indictment; he condemns himself.
Who reads his bosom reads immortal life,
Or nature there, imposing on her sons.
Has written fables; man was made a lie."

Vol. II.. p. 12.

Pegasus, being the horse of the Muses, has always
been at the service of the poets. Schiller tells a pretty
story of his having been sold by a needy poet and put to
the cart and the plough. He was not fit for such service,
and his clownish master could make nothing of him.
But a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try him.
As soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which
had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-
broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splen-
dor of his wings, and soared towards heaven. Our own
poet Longfellow also records an adventure of this fa-
mous steed in his "Pegasus in Pound."

Shakspeare alludes to Pegasus in "Henry IV.," where
Vernon describes Prince Henry :

i

THE CENTAURS 127

'I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed,
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat.
As if an angel dropped down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And witch the world with noble horsemanship."

THE CENTAURS

These monsters were represented as men from the
head to the loins, while the remainder of the body was
that of a horse. The ancients were too fond of a horse
to consider the union of his nature with man's as form-
ing a very degraded compound, and accordingly the
Centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of an-
tiquity to which any good traits are assigned. The Cen-
taurs were admitted to the companionship of man, and
at the marriage of Pirithous with Hippodamia they were
among the guests. At the feast Eurytion, one of the
Centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted
to offer violence to the bride; the other Centaurs fol-
lowed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in which
several of them were slain. This is the celebrated battle
of the Lapithse and Centaurs, a favorite subject with
the sculptors and poets of antiquity.

But not all the Centaurs were like the rude guests of
Pirithous. Chiron was instruct ed by Ap^ llu_and Diann,
and^wa^r^o^rrred--fef-ihi^^

nnIsic^aiiiJiie^S?F^ol5E0Eiy^ ^The most distinguished
heroes of Grecian story were his pupils. Amongthe_
rf'st the inf^rt /T^'^^iilfpins ^^^a*' intruste d to his cnarge '
by^ Apollo, his fat her. When the sagereturned to his"
home bearing the infant, his daughter Ocyroe came
forth to meet him, and at sight of the child burst forth
into a prophetic strain (for she was a prophetess), fore-
telling the glory that he was to achieve. ^'Esculapius
when grown up became a renowned physician, and even
in one instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life.
Pluto resented this, and Jupiter, at his request, struck
the bold physician with lightning, and killed him, but
after his death received him into the number of the gods.

128 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Chiron was the wisest and justest of all the Centaurs,
and at his death Jupiter placed him among the stars as
the constellation Sagittarius.

THE PYGMIES

The Pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from
a Greek word which means the cubit or measure of
about thirteen inches, which was said to be the height of
these people. They lived near the sources of the Nile,
or according to others, in India. Homer tells us that
the cranes used to migrate every winter to the Pygmies'
country, and their appearance was the signal of bloody
warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take up
arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious
strangers. The Pygmies and their enemies the Cranes
form the subject of several works of art.

Later writers tell of an army of Pygmies which find-
ing Hercules asleep made preparations to attack him. as
if they were about to attack a city. But the hero,
awaking, laughed at the little warriors, wrapped some
of them up in his lion's skin, and carried them to
Eurystheus.

Milton uses the Pygmies for a simile, "Paradise
Lost," Book I. :

". . . like that Pygmaean race
Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves
Whose midnight revels by a forest side,
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees
(Or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth
Wheels her pale course ; they on theip^mirth and dance
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear.
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds."

THE GRIFFIN, OR GRYPHON

The Grififin is a monster with the body of a lion, the
head and wings of an eagle, and back covered with
feathers. Like birds it builds its nest, and instead of an
egg lays an agate therein. It has long claws and talons

THE GOLDEN FLEECE 129

of such a size that the people of that country make
them into drinking-cups. India was assigned as the na-
tive country of the Griffins. They found gold in the
mountains and built their nests of it, for which reason
their nests were very tempting to the hunters, and they
were forced to keep vigilant guard over them. Their in-
stinct led them to know where buried treasures lay, and
they did their best to keep plunderers at a distance. The
Arimaspians, among whom the Griffins flourished, were
a one-eyed people of Scythia.

Milton borrows a simile from the Griffins, "Paradise
i^ost," Book IL:

"As when a Gryphon through the wilderness,
With winged course, o'er hill and moory dale,
Pursues the Arimaspian who by stealth
Hath from his wakeful custody purloined
His guarded gold," etc.

CHAPTER XVH

THE GOLDEN FLEECE MEDEA
THE GOLDEN FLEECE

In very ancient times there lived in Thessaly a king
and queen named Athamas and Nephele. They had two
children, a boy and a girl. After a time Athamas grew
indifferent to his wife, put her away, and took another.
Nephele suspected danger to her children from the in-
fluence of the step-mother, and took measures to send
them out of her reach. Mercury assisted her, and gave
her a ram with a golden fleece, on which she set the two
children, trusting that the ram would convey them to a
place of safety. The ram vaulted into the air with the
children on his back, taking his course to the East, till
when crossing the strait that divides Europe and Asia,
the girl, whose name was Helle. fell from his back into
the sea, which from her was called the Hellespont,
now the Dardanelles. The ram continued his career till

130 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

he reached the kingdom of Colchis, on the eastern shore
of the Black Sea, where he safely landed the boy
Phryxus, who was hospitably received by ^etes, king
of the country. Phryxus sacrificed the ram to Jupiter,
and gave the Golden Fleece to ^etes, who placed it in
a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless
dragon.

There was another kingdom in Thessaly near to that
of Athamas, and ruled over by a relative of his. The
king yEson, being tired of the cares of government, sur-
rendered his crown to his brother Pelias on condition
that he should hold it only during the minority of Jason,
the son of ^.son. When Jason was grown up and came
to demand the crown from his uncle, Pelias pretended
to be willing to yield it, but at the same time suggested
to the young man the glorious adventure of going in
quest of the Golden Fleece, which it was well known was
in the kingdom of Colchis, and was, as Pelias pretended,
the rightful property of their family. Jason was pleased
with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for
the expedition. At that time the only species of naviga-
tion known to the Greeks consisted of small boats or
canoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when
Jason employed Argus to build him a vessel capable of
containing fifty men, it was considered a gigantic under-
taking. It was accomplished, however, and the vessel
named "Argo," from the name of the builder. Jason
sent his invitation to all the adventurous young men of
Greece, and soon found himself at the head of a band of
bold youths, many of whom afterwards were renowned
among the heroes and demigods of Greece. Hercules,
' Theseus, Orpheus, and Nestor were apiong them. They
are called the Argonauts, from the name of their vessel.
The "Argo" with her crew of heroes left the shores
of Thessaly and having touched at the Island of Lemnos,
thence crossed to Mysia and thence to Thrace. Here
they found the sage Phineus, and from him received in-
struction as to their future course. It seems the en-
trance of the Euxine Sea was impeded by two small
rocky islands, which floated on the surface, and in their
tossings and heavings occasionally (?ame together, crush-

THE GOLDEN FLEECE 131

ing and grinding to atoms any object that might be caught
between them. They were called the Symplegades, or
Clashing Islands. Phineus instructed the Argonauts
how to pass this dangerous strait. When they reached
the islands they let go a dove, which took her way be-
tween the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some
feathers of her tail. Jason and his men seized the
favorable moment of the rebound, plied their oars with
vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands closed
behind them, and actually grazed their stern. They now
rowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern
end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom of Colchis.

Jason made known his message to the Colchian king,
^etes, who consented to give up the golden fleece if
Jason would yoke to the plough two fire-breathing bulls
with brazen feet, and sow the teeth of the dragon
which Cadmus had slain, and from which it was well
known that a crop of armed men would spring up,
who would turn their weapons against their producer.
Jason accepted the conditions, and a time was set for
making the experiment. Previously, however, he found
means to plead his cause to Medea, daughter of the king.
He promised her marriage, and as they stood before the
altar of Hecate, called the goddess to witness his oath.
Medea yielded, and by her aid, for she was a potent
sorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he
could encounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing
bulls and the weapons of the armed men.

At the time appointed, the people assembled at the
grove of Mars, and the king assumed his royal seat,
while the multitude covered the hill-sides. The brazen-
footed bulls rushed in, breathing fire from their nostrils
that burned up the herbage as they passed. The sound
was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that
of water upon quick-lime. Jason advanced boldly to
meet them. His friends, the chosen heroes of Greece,
trembled to behold him. Regardless of the burning
breath, he soothed their rage with his voice, patted their
necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped over them
the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. The
Colchians were amazed; the Greeks shouted for joy.

132 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and
plough them in. And soon the crop of armed men
sprang up, and, wonderful to relate ! no sooner had they
reached the surface than they began to brandish their
weapons and rush upon Jason. The Greeks trembled for
their hero, and even she who had provided him a way
of safety and taught him how to use it, Medea herself,
grew pale with fear. Jason for a time kept his assail-
ants at bay with his sword and shield, till, finding their
numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which
Medea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in
the midst of his foes. They immediately turned their
arms against one another, and soon there was not one
of the dragon's brood left slive. The Greeks embraced
their hero, and Medea, if she dared, would have em-
braced him too.

It remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded
the fleece, and this was done by scattering over him a
few drops of a preparation which Medea had supplied.
At the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment
motionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had
never been known to shut before, and turned over on
his side, fast asleep. Jason seized the fleece and with
his friends and Medea accompanying, hastened to their
vessel before .^etes the king could arrest their depart-
ure, and made the best of their way back to Thessaly,
where they arrived safe, and Jason delivered the fleece
to Pelias, and dedicated the "Argo" to Neptune. What
became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but
perhaps it was found after all, like many other golden
prizes, not worth the trouble it had cost to procure it.

This is one of those mythological tales, says a late
writer, in which there is reason to believe that a sub-
stratum of truth exists, though overlaid by a mass of
fiction. It probably was the first important maritime
expedition, and like the first attempts of the kind of all
nations, as we know from history, was probably of a
half-piratical character. If rich spoils were the result
it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden
fleece.

THE GOLDEN FLEECE 133

Another suggestion of a learned mythologist, Bryant,
is that it is a corrupt tradition of the story of Noah and
the ark. The name "Argo" seems to countenance this,
and the incident of the dove is another confirmation.

Pope, in his "Ode on Str^ecilia's Day," thus cele-
brates the launching of the ship "Argo." and the power
of the music of Orpheus, whom he calls the Thracian :

" So when the first bold vessel dared the seas.

High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,

While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.

Transported demigods stood round,

And men grew heroes at the sound."

In Dyer's poem of "The Fleece" there is an account
of the ship "Argo" and her crew, which gives a good
picture of this primitive maritime adventure :

"From every region of ^gea's shore
The brave assembled; those illustrious twins
Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard;
Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed ;
Strong Hercules and many a chief renowned.
On deep lolcos' sandy shore they thronged,
Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits;
And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone
Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark;
Whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand
Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt;
And in the extended keel a lofty mast
Upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs
Unwonted objects. Now first, now they learned
Their bolder steerage ever ocean wave.
Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art
Had marked the sphere celestial," etc.

Hercules left the expedition at Mysia, for Hylas, a
youth beloved by him, having gone for water, was laid
hold of and kept by the nymphs of the spring, who
were fascinated by his beauty. Hercules went in quest
of the lad, and while he was absent the "Argo" put to
sea and left him. Moore, in one of his songs, makes
a beautiful allusion to this incident :

134 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount,

Through fields full of light and with heart full of play,
Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount,
And neglected his task for the flowers in the way.

"Thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted

The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine,
Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,
And left their light urns all as empty as mine."

MEDEA AND ^SON

Amid the rejoicings for the recovery of the Golden
Fleece, Jason felt that one thing was wanting, the pres-
ence of .^son, his father, who was prevented by his
age and infirmities from taking part in them. Jason
said to Medea, "My spouse, would that your arts,
whose power I have seen so mighty for my aid, could
do me one further service, take some years from my
life and add them to my father's." Medea replied,
"Not at such a cost shall it be done, but if my art
avails me, his life shall be lengthened without abridg-
ing yours." The next full moon she issued forth alone,
while all creatures slept ; not a breath stirred the fo-
liage, and all was still. To the stars she addressed her
incantations, and to the moon ; to Hecate,^ the goddess
of the underworld, and to Tellus the goddess of the
earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment
are produced. She invoked the gods of the woods and
caverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers,
of winds and vapors. While she spoke the stars shone
brighter, and presently a chariot descended through the
air, drawn by flying serpents. She ascended it, and
borne aloft- made her way to distant/regions, where po-
tent plants grew which she knew how to select for her
purpose. Nine nights she employed in her search, and
during that time came not within the doors of her pal-
ace nor under any roof, and shunned all intercourse
with mortals.

' Hecate ;yas a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with Diana and
sometimes with Proserpine. As Diana represents the moonlight splendor
of night, so Hecate represents its darkness and terrors. She was the
goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night
along the earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her apDroach.

MEDEA AND ^SON 135

She next erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the
other to Hebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a
black sheep, pouring libations of milk and wine. She
implored Pluto and his stolen bride that they would not
hasten to take the old man's life. Then she directed
that /Eson should be led forth, and having thrown him
into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed
of herbs, like one dead. Jason and all others were
kept away from the place, that no profane eyes might
look upon her mysteries. Then, with streaming hair,
she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming twigs
in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. Mean-
while the caldron with its contents was got ready. In
it she put magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid
juice, stones from the distant east, and sand from the
shore of all-surrounding ocean ; hoar frost, gathered by
moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings, and the en-
trails of a wolf. She added fragments of the shells
of tortoises, and the liver of stags, animals tenacious
of life, and the head and beak of a crow, that out-
lives nine generations of men. These with many other
things ''without a name" she boiled together for her
purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive
branch ; and behold ! the branch when taken out in-
stantly became green, and before long was covered with
leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and as
the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over,
the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot forth with
a verdure like that of spring.

Seeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of
the old man and let out all his blood, and poured into
his mouth and into his wound the juices of her caldron.
As soon as he had completely imbibed them, his hair
and beard laid by their whiteness and assumed the black-
ness of youth ; his paleness and emaciation were gone ;
his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and
robustness, ^son is amazed at himself, and remembers
that such as he now is, he was in his youthful days,
forty years before.

Medea used her arts here for a good purpose, but
not so in another instance, where she made them the

136 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

instruments of revenge. Pelias, our readers will recol-
lect, was the usurping uncle of Jason, and had kept him
out of his kingdom. Yet he must have had some good
qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they
saw what Medea had done for ^son, they wished her
to do the same for their father. Medea pretended to
consent, and prepared her caldron as before. At her
request an old sheep was brought and plunged into the
caldron. Very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle,
and when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth
and ran frisking away into the meadow. The daughters
of Pelias saw the experiment with delight, and appointed
a time for their father to undergo the same operation.
But Medea prepared her caldron for him in a very
different way. She put in only water and a few simple
herbs. In the night she with the sisters entered the
bed chamber of the old king, while he and his guards
slept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon
them by Medea. The daughters stood by the bedside
with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till
Medea chid their irresolution. Then turning away their
faces, and giving random blows, they smote him with
their weapons. He, starting from his sleep, cried out,
"My daughters, what are you doing? Will you kill
your father?" Their hearts failed them and their weap-
ons fell from their hands, but Medea struck him a fatal
blow, and prevented his saying more.

Then they placed him in the caldron, and Medea
hastened to depart in her serpent-drawn chariot before
they discovered her treachery, or their vengeance would
have been terrible. She escaped, however, but had little
enjoyment of* the fruits of her crim^ Jason, for whom
she had done so much, wishing to marry Creusa, princess
of Corinth, put away Medea. She, enraged at his in-
gratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a pois-
oned robe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her
own children, and setting fire to the palace, mounted
her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to Athens, where
she married King ^geus, the father of Theseus, and
we shall meet her again when we come to the adven-
tures of that hero.

MEDEA AND ^SON 137

The incantations of Medea will remind the reader
of those of the witches in "Macbeth." The following
lines are those which seem most strikingly to recall the
ancient m.odel :

"Round about the caldron go;
In the poisoned entrails throw.

Fillet of a fenny snake

In the caldron boil and bake;

Eye of newt and toe of frog,

Wool of bat and tongue of dog.

Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,

Lizard's leg and howlet's wing :

Maw of ravening salt-sea shark,

Root of hemlock digged in the dark," etc.

Macbeth, Act IV., Scene 1

And again :

Macbeth. What is't you do?
Witches. A deed without a name.

There is another story of Medea almost too revolting
for record even of a sorceress, a class of persons to
whom both ancient and modern poets have been accus-
tomed to attribute every degree of atrocity. In her
flight from Colchis she had taken her young brother
Absyrtus with her. Finding the pursuing vessels of
^etes gaining upon the Argonauts, she caused the lad
to be killed and his limbs to be strewn over the sea.
.i^etes on reaching the place found these sorrowful
traces of his murdered son ; but while he tarried to
collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them
an honorable interment, the Argonauts escaped.

In the poems of Campbell will be found a transla-
tion of one of the choruses of the tragedy of "Medea,"
where the poet Euripides has taken advantage of the
occasion to pay a glowing tribute to Athens, his native
city. It begins thus :

"O haggard queen ! to Athens dost thou guide
Thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore;
Or seek to hide thy damned parricide

Where peace and justice dwell for evermore?"

138 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
CHAPTER XVni

MELEAGER AND ATALANTA

One of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was
Meleager, son of Qlneus and Althea, king and queen
of Calydon. Althea, when her son was born, beheld
the three destinies, who, as they spun their fatal thread,
foretold that the life of the child should last no longer
than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea
seized and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved
it for years, while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and
manhood. It chanced, then, that CEneus, as he offered
sacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to
Diana ; and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild
boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of Caly-
don. Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood
like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of In-
dian elephants. The growing corn was trampled, the
vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds
were driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe.
All common aid seemed vain ; but Meleager called on
the heroes of Greece to join in a bold hunt for the
ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithous,
Jason, Peleus, afterwards the father of Achilles, Tela-
mon the father of Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who
in his age bore arms with Achilles and Ajax in the
Trojan war, these and many more joined in the enter-
prise. With them came Atalanta, the daughter of lasius,
king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined her
vest, an ivory quiver hung on her leit shoulder, and her
left hand bore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty
with the best graces of martial youth. Meleager saw
and loved.

But now already they were near the monster's lair.
They stretched strong nets from tree to tree ; they un-
coupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of
their cfuarry in the grass. From the wood was a de-
scent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he lay

MELEAGER AND ATALANTA " 139

among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and
rushed forth against them. One and another is thrown
down and slain. Jason throws his spear, with a prayer
to Diana for success ; and the favoring goddess allows
the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the
steel point of the spear in its flight. Nestor, assailed,
seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree. Tela-
nion rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls
prone. But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the
first time tastes the monster's blood. It is a slight wound,
but Meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it. Anceus,
excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly
proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and
the goddess who had sent it ; but as he rushes on, the
infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound.
Theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a
projecting bough. The dart of Jason misses its object,
and kills instead one of their own dogs. But Meleager,
after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the
monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with
repeated blows.

Then rose a shout from those around ; they congratu-
lated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He,
placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned
to Atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough
hide which were the trophies of his success. But at
this, envy excited the rest to strife. Plexippus and
Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, beyond the
rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden
the trophy she had received. Meleager, kindling with
rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at
the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the
claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the of-
fenders' hearts.

As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples
for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered
brothers met her sight. She shrieks, and beats her
breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing
for those of mourning. But when the author of the
deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of
vengeance on her son. The fatal brand, which once

140 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

she rescued from the flames, the brand which the des-
tinies had hnked with Meleager's hfe, she brings forth,
and commands a fire to be prepared. Then four times
she essays to place the brand upon the pile ; four times
draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing de-
struction on her son. The feelings of the mother and
the sister contend within her. Now she is pale at the
thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with
anger at the act of her son. As a vessel, driven in one
direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide,
the mind of Altliea hangs suspended in uncertainty. But
now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins
as she holds the fatal wood: "Turn, ye Furies, god-
desses of punishment 1 turn to behold the sacrifice I
bring ! Crime must atone for crime. Shall CEneus re-
joice in his victor son, while the house of Thestius is
desolate ? But, alas 1 to what deed am I borne along ?
Brothers forgive a mother's weakness ! my hand fails
me. He deserves death, but not that I should destroy
him. But shall he then live, and triumph, and reign
over Calydon, while you, my brothers, wander unavenged
among the shades? No ! thou hast lived by my gift ; die,
now, for thine own crime. Return the life which twice
I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when I snatched
this brand from the flames. O that thou hadst then died !
Alas ! evil is the conquest ; but, brothers, ye have con-
quered." And, turning away her face,' she threw the
fatal wood upon the burning pile.

It gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager,
absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang.
He burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the
pain which destroys him. He mourn^ only that he per-
ishes by a bloodless and unhonorea death. With his
last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother,
and his fond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and
upon his mother, the unknown cause of his fate. The
flames increase, and with them the pain of the hero.
Now both subside ; now both are quenched. The brand
is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to
the wandering winds.

Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands

ATALANTA 141

upon herself. The sisters of Meleager mourned their
brother with uncontrollable grief ; till Diana, pitying the
sorrows of the house that once had aroused her anger,
turned them into birds.

ATALANTA

The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden
whose face you might truly say was boyish for a girl,
yet too girlish for a boy. Her fortune had been told,
and it was to this effect : "Atalanta, do not marry ; mar-
riage will be your ruin." Terrified by this oracle, she
fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the sports
of the chase. To all suitors (for she had many) she
imposed a condition which was generally effectual in
relieving her of their persecutions, "I will be the prize
of him who shall conquer me in the race ; but death must
be the penalty of all who try and fail." In spite of this
hard condition some would try. Hippomenes was to be
judge of the race. "Can it be possible that any will be
so rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. But
when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he
changed his mind, and said, "Pardon me, youths, I knew
not the prize you were competing for." As he surveyed
them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled with
envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win. While
such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. As
she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. The
breezes seemed to give wings to her feet ; her hair flew
over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment
fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness
of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble
wall. All her competitors were distanced, and were put
to death without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by
this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "Why
boast of beating those laggards? I oft'er myself for the
contest." Atalanta looked at him with a pitying coun-
tenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather con-
quer him or not. "What god can tempt one so young
and handsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not
for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth.

142 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

I wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so
mad, I hope he may outrun me." While she hesitates,
revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient
for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare.
Then Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus : "Help
me, Venus, for you have led me on." Venus heard and
was propitious.

In the garden of her temple, in her own island of
Cyprus, is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches
and golden fruit. Hence she gathered three golden ap-
ples, and, unseen by any one else, gave them to Hippo-
menes, and told him how to use them. The signal is
given ; each starts from the goal and skims over the
sand. So light their tread, you would almost have
thought they might run over the river surface or over
the waving grain without sinking. The cries of the
spectators cheered Hippomenes, "Now, now, do your
best ! haste, haste ! you gain on her ! relax not ! one more
effort !" It was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden
heard these cries with the greater pleasure. But his
breath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal
yet far off. At that moment he threw down one of the
golden apples. The virgin was all amazement. She
stopped to pick it up. Hippomenes shot ahead. Shouts
burst forth from all sides. She redoubled her efforts,
and soon overtook him. Again he threw an apple. She
stopped again, but again came up with him. The goal
was near; one chance only remained. "Now, goddess,"
said he, "prosper your gift!" and threw the last apple
off at one side. She looked at it, and hesitated; V^enus
impelled her to turn aside for it. She did so, and was
vanquished. The youth carried off his /prize.

But the lovers were so full of their own happiness
that they forgot to pay due honor to Venus ; and the
goddess was provoked at their ingratitude. She caused
them to give offence to Cybele. That powerful goddess
was not to be insulted with impunity. She took from
them their human form and turned them into animals
of characters resembling their own : of the huntress-
heroine, triumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made
a lioness, and of her lord and master a lion, and yoked

HERCULES 143

them to her car, where they are still to be seen in all
representations, in statuary or painting, of the goddess
Cybele.

Cybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by
the Greeks Rhea and Ops. She was the wife of Cronos
and mother of Zeus. In works of art she exhibits the
matronly air which distinguishes Juno and Ceres. Some-
times she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at
her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by
lions. She wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose
rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements.
Her priests were called Corybantes.

Byron, in describing the city of Venice, which is built
on a low island in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illus-
tration from Cybele :

"She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers."

Childe Harold, IV.

In Moore's "Rhymes on the Road," the poet, speaking
of Alpine scenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and
Hippomenes thus :

"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find
That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,
Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray
By the golden illusions he flings in her way."

CHAPTER XIX

HERCULES HEBE AND GANYMEDE
HERCULES

Hercules was the son of Jupiter and Alcmena. As
Juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband
by mortal mothers, she declared war against Hercules

144 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

from his birth. She sent two serpents to destroy him as
he lay in his cradle, but the precocious infant strangled
them with his own hands. He was, however, by the
arts of Juno rendered subject to Eurystheus and com-
pelled to perform all his commands. Eurystheus en-
joined upon him a succession of desperate adventures,
which are called the "Twelve Labors of Hercules." The
first was the fight with the Nemean lion. The valley
of Nemea was infested by a terrible lion. Eurystheus
ordered Hercules to bring him the skin of this monster.
After using in vain his club and arrows against the lion,
Hercules strangled the animal with his hands. He re-
turned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders ; but
Eurystheus was so frightened at the sight of it and at
this proof of the prodigious strength of the hero, that
he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits
in future outside the town.

His next labor was the slaughter of the Hydra. This
monster ravaged the country of Argos, and dwelt in a
swamp near the well of Amymone. This well had been
discovered by Amymone when the country was suffering
from drought, and the story was that Neptune, who loved
her, had permitted her to touch the rock with his trident,
and a spring of three outlets burst forth. Here the
Hydra took up his position, and Hercules was sent to
destroy him. The Hydra had nine heads, of which the
middle one was immortal. Hercules struck off its heads
with his club, but in the place of the head knocked off,
two new ones grew forth each time. At length with
the assistance of his faithful servant lolaus, he burned
away the heads of the Hydra, and buried the ninth or
immortal one under a huge rock. /

Another labor was the cleaning of the Augean stables.
Augeas, king of Elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen,
whose stalls had not been cleansed for thirty years. Her-
cules brought the rivers Alpheus and Peneus through
them, and cleansed them thoroughly in one day.

His next labor was of a more delicate kind. Admeta,
the daughter of Eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle
of the queen of the Amazons, and Eurystheus ordered
Hercules to go and get it. The Amazons were a nation

. HERCULES 145

of women. They were very warlike and held several
flourishing cities. It was their custom to bring up only
the female children ; the boys were either sent away to
the neighboring nations or put to death. Hercules was
accompanied by a number of volunteers, and after vari-
ous adventures at last reached the country of the /^Lma-
zons. Hippolyta, the queen, received him kindly, and
consented to yield him her girdle, but Juno, taking the
form of an Amazon, went and persuaded the rest that
the strangers were carrying oft' their queen. They in-
stantly armed and came in great numbers down to the
ship. Hercules, thinking that Hippolyta had acted
treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle made sail
homewards.

Another task enjoined him was to bring to Eurystheus
the oxen of Geryon, a monster with three bodies, who
dwelt in the island Erytheia (the red), so called because
it lay at the west, uaider the rays of the setting sun.
This description is thought to apply to Spain, of which
Geryon was king. After traversing various countries,
Hercules reached at length the frontiers of Libya and
Europe, where he raised the two mountains of Calpe and
Abyla, as monuments of his progress, or, according to
another account, rent one mountain into two and left half
on each side, forming the straits of Gibraltar, the two
mountains being called the Pillars of Hercules. The
oxen were guarded by the giant Eurytion and his two-
headed dog, but Hercules killed the giant and his dog
and brought away the oxen in safety to Eurystheus.

The most difficult labor of all was getting the golden
apples of the Hesperides, for Hercules did not know
where to find them. These were the apples which Juno
had received at her wedding from the goddess of the
Earth, and which she had intrusted to the keeping of
the daughters of Hesperus, assisted by a watchful dragon.
After various adventures Hercules arrived at Mount
Atlas in Africa. Atlas was one of the Titans who had
warred against the gods, and after they were subdued,
Atlas was condemned to bear on his shoulders the weight
of the heavens. He was the father of the Hesperides,
and Hercules thought might, if any one could, find the

146 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

apples and bring them to him. But how to send Atlas
away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he
was gone? Hercules took the burden on his own shoul-
ders, and sent Atlas to seek the apples. He returned
with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his
burden upon his shoulders again, and let Hercules re-
turn with the apples to Eurystheus.

Milton, in his "Comus," makes the Hesperides the
daughters of Hesperus and nieces of Atlas :

". . . amidst the gardens fair
Of Hesperus and his daughters three,
That sing about the golden tree."

The poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appear-
ance of the western sky at sunset, viewed the west as
a region of brightness and glory. Hence they placed in
it the Isles of the Blest, the ruddy Isle Erythea, on
which the bright oxen of Geryon were pastured, and
the Isle of the Hesperides. The apples are supposed
by some to be the oranges of Spain, of which the Greeks
had heard some obscure accounts.

A celebrated exploit of Hercules was his victory over
Antseus. Antaeus, the son of Terra, the Earth, was a
mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible
so long as he remained in contact with his mother Earth.
He compelled all strangers who came to his country to
wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered (as
they all were) they should be put to death. Hercules
encountered him, and finding that it /Was of no avail
to throw him, for he always rose with renewed strength
from every fall, he lifted him up from the earth and
strangled him in the air.

Cacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on
Mount Aventine, and plundered the surrounding coun-
try. When Hercules was driving home the oxen of
Geryon, Cacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero
slept. That their footprints might not serve to show
where they had been driven, he dragged them back-

HERCULES 147

ward by their tails to his cave ; so their tracks all seemed
to show that they had gone in the opposite direction.
Hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would have
failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in
driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where
the stolen ones were concealed, those within began to
low, and were thus discovered. Cacus was slain by
Hercules.

The last exploit we shall record was bringing Cerberus
from the lower world. Hercules descended into Hades,
accompanied by Mercury and Minerva. He obtained
permission from Pluto to carry Cerberus to the upper
air, provided he could do it without the use of weapons ;
and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him,
held him fast, and carried him to Eurystheus, and after-
wards brought him back again. When he was in Hades
he obtained the liberty of Theseus, his admirer and
imitator, who had been detained a prisoner there for an
unsuccessful attempt to carry off Proserpine.

Hercules in a fit of madness killed his friend Iphitus,
and was condemned for this offence to become the slave
of Queen Omphale for three years. While in this service
the hero's nature seemed changed. He lived effeminately,
wearing at times the dress of a woman, and spinning
wool with the hand-maidens of Omphale, while the queen
wore his lion's skin. When this service was ended
he married Dejanira and lived in peace with her three
years. On one occasion as he was travelling with his
wife, they came to a river, across which the Centaur
Nessus carried travellers for a stated fee. Hercules
himself forded the river, but gave Dejanira to Nessus
to be carried across. Nessus attempted to run away with
her, but Hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow
into the heart of Nessus. The dying Centaur told De-
janira lO take a portion of his blood and keep it, as it
might be used as a charm to preserve the love of her
husband.

Dejanira did so and before long fancied she had occa-
sion to use it. Hercules in one of his conquests had
taken prisoner a fair maiden, named lole, of whom he
seemed more fond than Dejanira approved. When Her-

148 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

cules was about to offer sacrifices to the gods in honor
of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to
use on the occasion. Dejanira, thinking it a good oppor-
tunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the
blood of Nessus. We are to suppose she took care
to wash out all traces of it, but the magic power re-
mamed, and as soon as the garment became warm on
the body of Hercules the poison penetrated into all his
limbs and caused him the most intense agony. In his
frenzy he seized Lichas, who had brought him the fatal
robe, and hurled him into the sea. He wrenched off the
garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore
away whole pieces of his body. In this state he em-
barked on board a ship and was conveyed home. Deja-
nira, on seeing what she had unwittingly done, hung
herself. Hercules, prepared to die, ascended Mount GLta,
where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave his bow and
arrows to Philoctetes, and laid himself down on the pile,
his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread
over him. With a countenance as serene as if he were
taking his place at a festal board he commanded Philoc-
tetes to apply the torch. The flames spread apace and
soon invested the whole mass.

Milton thus alludes to the frenzy of Hercules :

"As when Alcides/ from CEchalia crowned
With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore,
Through pain, up by the roots Thessalian pines
And Lichas from the top of CEta threw
Into the Euboic Sea."

The gods themselves felt troubled at^seeing the cham-
pion of the earth so brought to his end. But Jupiter
with cheerful countenance thus addressed them: "I am
pleased to see your concern, my princes, and am gratified
to perceive that I am the ruler of a loyal people, and
that my son enjoys your favor. For although your in-
terest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not
the less gratifying to me. But now I say to you, Fear
not. He who conquered all else is not to be conquered

^ Alcides, a name of Hercules.

HERCULES 149

by those flames which you see blazing on Mount (Eta.
Only his mother's share in him can perish; what he
derived from me is immortal. I shall take him, dead
to earth, to the heavenly shores, and I require of you
all to receive him kindly. If any of you feel grieved
at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he
has deserved it." The gods all gave their assent ; Juno
only heard the closing words with some displeasure that
she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not enough
to make her regret the determination of her husband.
So when the flames had consumed the mother's share
of Hercules, the diviner part, instead of being injured
thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to assume
a more lofty port and a more awful dignity. Jupiter
enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-
horse chariot to dwell among the stars. As he took his
place in heaven. Atlas felt the added weight.

Juno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter
Hebe in marriage.

The poet Schiller, in one of his pieces called the "Ideal
and Life," illustrates the contrast between the practical
and the imaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which
the last two may be thus translated :

"Deep degraded to a coward's slave,
Endless contests bore Alcides brave,
Through the thorny path of suffering led;
Slew the Hj'dra, crushed the lion's might,
Threw himself, to bring his friend to light,
Living, in the skiff that bears the dead.
All the torments, every toil of earth
Juno's hatred on him could impose.
Well he bore them, from his fated birth
To life's grandly mournful close.

"Till the god, the earthly part forsaken,
From the man in flames asunder taken.
Drank the heavenly ether's purer breath.
Joyous in the new unwonted lightness.
Soared he upwards to celestial brightness,
Earth's dark heavy burden lost in death.
High Olympus gives harmonious greeting
To the hall where reigns his sire adored;
Youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting.
Gives the nectar to her lord." 5". G. B.

150 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

HEBE AND GANYMEDE

Hebe, the daughter of Juno, and goddess of youth,
was cup-bearer to the gods. The usual story is that
she resigned her office on becoming the wife of Her-
cules. But there is another statement which our coun-
tryman Crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his group
of Hebe and Ganymede, now in the Athenaeum gallery.
According to this, Hebe was dismissed from her office
in consequence of a fall which she met with one day
when in attendance on the gods. Her successor was
Ganymede, a Trojan boy, whom Jupiter, in the disguise
of an eagle, seized and carried ofif from the midst of
his playfellows on Mount Ida, bore up to heaven, and
installed in the vacant place.

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art," describes among

the decorations on the walls a picture representing this

legend :

"There, too, flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh
Half buried in the eagle's down,
Sole as a flying star shot through the sky
Above the pillared town."

And in Shelley's "Prometheus" Jupiter calls to his
cup-bearer thus :

"Pour forth heaven's wine, Idsean Ganymede,
And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire."

The beautiful legend of the "Choice of Hercules" may

be found in the "Tatler," No. 97.

CHAPTER XX

THESEUS D^DALUS CASTOR AND POLLUX
THESEUS

Theseus was the son of ^geus, king of Athens, and
of ^thra, daughter of the king of Troezen. He was
brought up at Troezen, and when arrived at manhood
was to proceed to Athens and present himself to his

THESEUS 151

father, ^geus on parting from ^thra, before the birth
of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large
stone and directed her to send his son to him when he
became strong enough to roll away the stone and take
them from under it. When she thought the time had
come, his mother led Theseus to the stone, and he re-
moved it with ease and took the sword and shoes. As
the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather
pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer way
to his father's country by sea ; but the youth, feeling
in himself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager
to signalize himself like Hercules, with whose fame all
Greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers and mon-
sters that oppressed the country, determined on the
more perilous and adventurous journey by land.

His first day's journey brought him to Epidaurus,
where dwelt a jnan named Periphetes, a son of Vulcan.
This ferocious savage always went armed with a club
of iron, and all travellers stood in terror of his violence.
When he saw Theseus approach he assailed him, but
speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who
took possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards
as a memorial of his first victory.

Several similar contests with the petty tyrants and
marauders of the country followed, in all of which
Theseus was victorious. One of these evil-doers was
called Procrustes, or the Stretcher. He had an iron
bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who
fell into his hands. If they were shorter than the bed,
he stretched their limbs to make them fit it ; if they
were longer than the bed, he lopped off a portion. The-
seus served him as he had served others.

Having overcome all the perils of the road, Theseus
at length reached Athens, where new dangers awaited
him. Medea, the sorceress, who had fled from Corinth
after her separation from Jason, had become the wife
of ^geus, the father of Theseus. Knowing by her arts
who he was, and fearing the loss of her influence with
her husband if Theseus should be acknowledged as his
son, she filled the mind of iEgeus with suspicions of
the young straiiger, and induced him to present him a
cup of poison; but at the moment when Theseus stepped

152 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

forward to take it, the sight of the sword which he
wore discovered to his father who he was, and prevented
the fatal draught. Medea, detected in her arts, fled
once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in
Asia, where the country afterwards called Media re-
ceived its name from her. Theseus was acknowledged
by his father, and declared his successor.

The Athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on
account of the tribute which they were forced to pay
to Minos, king of Crete. This tribute consisted of
seven youths and seven maidens, who were sent every
year to be devoured by the Minotaur, a monster with
a bull's body and a human head. It was exceedingly
strong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed
by Daedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was en-
closed in it could by no meanj, find his way out unas-
sisted. Here the Minotaur roamed, and was fed with
human victims.

Theseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from
this calamity, or to die in the attempt. Accordingly, when
the time of sending off the tribute came, and the youths
and maidens were, according to custom, drawn by lot to
be sent, he offered himself as one of the victims, in
spite of the entreaties of his father. The ship departed
under black sails, as usual, which Theseus promised his
father to change for white, in case of his returning vic-
torious. When they arrived in Crete, the youths and
maidens were exhibited before Minos ; and Ariadne, the
daughter of the king, being present, became deeply enam-
ored of Theseus, by whom her love was readily returned.
She furnished him with a sword, with which to encoun-
ter the Minotaur, and with a clew of tiiread by which he
might find his way out of the labyrinth. He was suc-
cessful, slew the Minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth,
and taking Ariadne as the companion of his way, with his
rescued companions sailed for Athens. On their way
they stopped at the island of Naxos, where Theseus
abandoned Ariadne, leaving her asleep.^ His excuse for

^ One of the finest pieces of sculpture in Italy, the recumbent Ariadne
of the Vatican, represents this incident. A copy is owned by the
Athenaeum, Boston, and deposited in the Museum of Fine Arts.

THESEUS 153

this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that
Minerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him
to do so.

On approaching the coast of Attica, Theseus forgot
the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise
the white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had
perished, put an end to his own life. Theseus thus became
king of Athens.

One of the most celebrated of the adventures of The-
seus is his expedition against the Amazons. He assailed
them before they had recovered from the attack of
Hercules, and carried off their queen Antiope. The
Amazons in their turn invaded the country of Athens and
penetrated into the city itself ; and the final battle in
which Theseus overcame them was fought in the very
midst of the city. This battle was one of the favorite
subjects of the ancient sculptors, and is commemorated
in several works of art that are still extant.

The friendship between Theseus and Pirithous was
of a most intimate nature, yet it originated in the midst
of arms. Pirithous had made an irruption into the plain
of Marathon, and carried off the herds of the king of
Athens. Theseus went to repel the plunderers. The
moment Pirithous beheld him, he was seized with admi-
ration ; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace,
and cried, "Be judge thyself what satisfaction dost thou
require?" "Thy friendship," replied the Athenian, and
they swore inviolable fidelity. Their deeds corresponded
to their professions, and they ever continued true brothers
in arms. Each of them aspired to espouse a daughter
of Jupiter. Theseus fixed his choice on Helen, then but
a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the
Trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried
her off. Pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch
of Erebus ; and Theseus, though aware of the danger,
accompanied the ambitious lover in his descent to the
under-world. But Pluto seized and set them on an en-
chanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained
till Hercules arrived and liberated Theseus, leaving Pi-
rithous to his fate.

After the death of Antiope, Theseus married Phae-

154 STORIES OF GODS AND HETvOES

dra, daughter of Minos, king of Crete. Phaedra saw in
Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, a youth endowed with
all the graces and virtues of his father, and of an age
corresponding to her own. She loved him, but he re-
pulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate.
She used her influence over her infatuated husband to
cause him to be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the
vengeance of Neptune upon him. As Hippolytus was one
day driving his chariot along the shore, a sea-monster
raised himself above the waters, and frightened the
horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot to
pieces. Hippolytus was killed, but by Diana's assistance
^sculapius restored him to life. Diana removed Hip-
polytus from the power of his deluded father and false
stepmother, and placed him in Italy under the protection
of the nymph Egeria.

Theseus at length lost the favor of his people, and
retired to the court of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, who
at first received him kindly, but afterwards treacherously
slew him. In a later age the Athenian general Cimon
discovered the place where his remains were laid, and
caused them to be removed to Athens, where they were
deposited in a temple called the Theseum, erected in
honor of the hero.

The queen of the Amazons whom Theseus espoused
is by some called Hippolyta. That is the name she bears
in Shakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," the
subject of which is the festivities attending the nup-
tials of Theseus and Hippolyta.

Mrs. Hemans has a poem on the ancient Greek tra-
dition that the "Shade of Theseus" appeared strength-
ening his countrymen at the battle of Marathon.

Theseus is a semi-historical personage. It is record-
ed of him that he united the several tribes by whom
the territory of Attica was then possessed into one
state, of which Athens was the capital. In commemora-
tion of this important event, he instituted the festival
of Panathensea, in honor of Minerva, the patron deity
of Athens. This festival differed from the other Gre-
cian games chiefly in two particulars. It was peculiar

OLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES 155

to the Athenians, and its chief feature was a solemn
procession in which the Peplus, or sacred robe of
Minerva, was carried to the Parthenon, and suspended
before the statue of the goddess. The Peplus was cov-
ered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of the
noblest families in Athens. The procession consisted of
persons of all ages and both sexes. The old men car-
ried olive branches in their hands, and the young men
bore arms. The young women carried baskets on their
heads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all
things necessary for the sacrifices. The procession
formed the subject of the bas-reliefs which embellished
the outside of the temple of the Parthenon. A con-
siderable portion of these sculptures is now in the Brit-
ish Museum among those known as the ''Elgin marbles."

OLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES

It seems not inappropriate to mention here the other
celebrated national games of the Greeks. The first and
most distinguished were the Olympic, founded, it was
said, by Jupiter himself. They were celebrated at Olym-
pia in Elis. Vast numbers of spectators flocked to them
from every part of Greece, and from Asia, Africa, and
Sicily. They were repeated every fifth year in mid-
summer, and continued five days. They gave rise to
the custom of reckoning time and dating events by
Olympiads. The first Olympiad is generally consid-
ered as corresponding with the year 776 B.C. The
Pythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of Delphi,
the Isthmian on the Corinthian isthmus, the Nemean at
Nemea, a city of Argolis.

The exercises in these games were of five sorts : run-
ning, leaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurl-
ing the javelin, or boxing. Besides these exercises of
bodily strength and agility, there were contests in music,
poetry, and eloquence. Thus these games furnished
poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to
present their productions to the public, and the fame of
the victors was diffused far and wide.

156 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

D^DALUS

The labyrinth from which Theseus escaped by means
of the clew of Ariadne was built by Daedalus, a most
skilful artificer. It was an edifice with numberless wind-
ing passages and turnings opening into one another, and
seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river
Mseander, which returns on itsdf, and flows now on-
ward, now backward, in its course to the sea. Daedal as
built the labyrinth for King Minos, but afterwards lost
the favor of the king, and was shut up in a tower. He
contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could
not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch
on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without
being carefully searched. "Minos may control the land
and sea," said Daedalus, "but not the regions of the air.
I will try that way." So he set to work to fabricate
wings for himself and his young son Icarus. He
wrought feathers together, beginning with the smallest
and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface.
The larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller
with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like
the wings of a bird. Icarus, the boy, stood and looked
on, sometimes running to gather up the feathers which
the wind had blown away, and then handling the wax
and working it over with his fingers, by his play im-
peding his father in his labors. When at last the work
was done, the artist, waving his wings, found himself
buoyed upward, and hung suspended, poising himself on
the beaten air. He next equipped his son in the same
manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her
young ones from the lofty nest into the air. When all
was prepared for flight he said, "Icarus, my son, I
charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you
fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too
high the heat will melt them. Keep near me and you
will be safe." While he gave him these instructions and
fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of the father
was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. He kissed
the boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. Then
rising on his wings, he flew off, encouraging him to fol-

D;EDALUS 157

low, and looked back from his own flight to see how
his son managed his wings. As they flew the plough-
man stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd leaned
on his staft' and watched them, astonished at the sight,
and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave
the air.

They passed Samos and Delos on the left and Leb-
ynthos on the right, when the boy, exulting in his ca-
reer, began to leave the guidance of his companion and
soar upward as if to reach heaven. The nearness of
the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers
together, and they came off. He fluttered with his arms,
but no feathers remained to hold the air. While his
mouth uttered cries to his father it was submerged in
the blue waters of the sea, which thenceforth was called
by his name. His father cried, "Icarus, Icarus, where
are you?" At last he saw the feathers floating on the
water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he buried
the body and called the land Icaria in memory of his
child. Dasdalus arrived safe in Sicily, where he built
a temple to Apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering
to the god.

Daedalus was so proud of his achievements that he
could not bear the idea of a rival. His sister had placed
her son Perdix under his charge to be taught the me-
chanical arts. He was an apt scholar and gave strik-
ing evidences of ingenuity. Walking on the seashore
he picked up the spine of a fish. Imitating it, he took
a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus
invented the sazv. He put two pieces of iron together,
connecting them at one end with a rivet, and sharpen-
ing the other ends, and made a pair of compasses.
Daedalus was so envious of his nephew's performances
that he took an opportunity, when they were together
one day on the top of a hig;ti tower, to push him off.
But Minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling,
and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called
after his name, the Partridge. This bird does not build
his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles
in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high
places.

158 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The death of Icarus is told in the following lines by
Darwin :

". . . with melting wax and loosened strings
Sunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings;
Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air,
With limbs distorted and dishevelled hair ;
His scattered plumage danced upon the wave,
And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave;
O'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed,
And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed;
Struck in their coral towers the passing bell,
And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell."

CASTOR AND POLLUX

Castor and Pollux were the offspring of Leda and
the Swan, under which disguise Jupiter had concealed
himself. Leda gave birth to an egg from which sprang
the twins. Helen, so famous afterwards as the cause
of the Trojan war, was their sister.

When Theseus and his friend Pirithous had carried
off Helen from Sparta, the youthful heroes Castor and
Pollux, with their followers, hastened to her rescue.
Theseus was absent from Attica and the brothers were
successful in recovering their sister.

Castor was famous for taming and managing horses,
and Pollux for skill in boxing. They were united by
the warmest affection and inseparable in all their en-
terprises. They accompanied the Argonautic expedition.
During the voyage a storm arose, and Orpheus prayed
to the Samothracian gods, and played on his harp,
whereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the
heads of the brothers. From this in^dent, Castor and
Pollux came afterwards to be considered the patron
deities of seamen and voyagers, and the lambent flames,
which in certain states of the atmosphere play round the
sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names.

After the Argonautic expedition, we find Castor and
Pollux engaged in a war with Idas and Lynceus. Cas-
tor was slain, and Pollux, inconsolable for the loss of
his brother, besought Jupiter to be permitted to give
his own life as a ransom for him. Jupiter so far con-

CASTOR AND POLLUX 159

sented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon
of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and
the next in the heavenly abodes. According to another
form of the story, Jupiter rewarded the attachment of
the brothers by placing them among the stars as Gemini
the Twins.

They received divine honors under the name af
Dioscuri (sons of Jove). They were believed to have
appeared occasionally in later times, taking part with
one side or the other, in hard-fought fields, and were
said on such occasions to be mounted on magnificent
white steeds. Thus in the early history of Rome they
are said to have assisted the Romans at the battle of
Lake Regillus, and after the victory a temple was erected
in their honor on the spot where they appeared.

Macaulay, in his "Lays of Ancient Rome," thus al-
ludes to the legend :

"So like they were, no mortal

Might one from other know ;
White as snow their armor was,

Their steeds were white as snow.
Never on earthly anvil

Did such rare armor gleam,
And never did such gallant steeds

Drink of an earthly stream.

'Back comes the chief in triumph

Who in the hour of fight
Hath seen the great Twin Brethren

In harness on his right.
Safe comes the ship to haven,

Through billows and through gales.
If once the great Twin Brethren

Sit shining on the sails."

160 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER XXI

B ACCH US ARIADNE
BACCHUS

Bacchus was the son of Jupiter and Semele. Juno,
to gratify her resentment against Semele, contrived a
plan for her destruction. Assuming the form of Beroe,
her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts whether it was
indeed Jove himself who came as a lover. Heaving a
sigh, she said, "I hope it will turn out so, but I can't
help being afraid. People are not always what they
pretend to be. If he is indeed Jove, make him give
some proof of it. Ask him to come arrayed in all his
splendors, such as he wears in heaven. That will put
the matter beyond a doubt." Semele was persuaded to
try the experiment. She asks a favor, without nam-
ing what it is. Jove gives his promise, and confirms it
with the irrevocable oath, attesting the river Styx, ter-
rible to the gods themselves. Then she made known her
request. The god would have stopped her as she spake,
but she was too quick for him. The words escaped,
and he could neither unsay his promise nor her request.
In deep distress he left her and returned to the upper
regions. There he clothed himself in his splendors, not
putting on all his terrors, as when he overthrew the
giants, but what is known among the gods as his lesser
panoply. Arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of
Semele. Her mortal frame could not endure the splen-
dors of the immortal radiance. She /was consumed to
ashes. '

Jove took the infant Bacchus and gave him in charge
to the Nyssean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and
childhood, and for their care were rewarded by Jupiter
by being- placed, as the Hyades, among the stars. When
Bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of the vine
and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but Juno
struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wan-
derer through various parts of the earth. In Phrygia

BACCHUS 161

the godaess Rhea cured him and taught him her re-
ligious rites, and he set out on a progress through Asia,
teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. The
most famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to
India, which is said to have lasted several years. Re-
turning in triumph, he undertook to introduce his wor-
ship into Greece, but was opposed by some princes, who
dreaded its introduction on account of the disorders and
madness it brought with it.

As he approached his native city Thebes, Pentheus
the king, who had no respect for the new worship, for-
bade its rites to be performed. But when it was known
that Bacchus was advancing, men and women, but
chiefly the latter, young and old, poured forth to meet
him and to join his triumphal march.

Mr. Longfellow in his "Drinking Song" thus describes
the march of Bacchus :

"Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow;

Ivy crowns that brow, supernal
As the forehead of Apollo,
And possessing youth eternal.

"Round about him fair Bacchantes,
Bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses,
Wild from Naxian groves of Zante's
Vineyards, sing delirious verses."

It was in vain Pentheus remonstrated, commanded,
and threatened. "Go," said he to his attendants, "seize
this vagabond leader of the rout and bring him to me.
Lwill soon make him confess his false claim of heavenly
parentage and renounce his counterfeit worship." It was
in vain his nearest friends and wisest counsellors remon-
strated and begged him not to oppose the god. Their
remonstrances only made him more violent.

But now the attendants returned whom he had de-
spatched to seize Bacchus. They had been driven away
by the Bacchanals, but had succeeded in taking one of
them prisoner, whom, with his hands tied behind him,
they brought before the king. Pentheus, beholding him
with wrathful countenance, said, "Fellow ! you shall

162 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warn-
ing to others; but though I grudge the delay of your
punishment, speak, tell us who you are, and what are
these new rites you presume to celebrate."

The prisoner, unterrified, responded, "My name is
Acetes; my country is Maeonia; my parents were poor
people, who had no fields or flocks to leave me, but
they left me their fishing rods and nets and their fisher-
man's trade. This I followed for some time, till grow-
ing weary of remaining in one place, I learned the pilot's
art and how to guide my course by the stars. It hap-
pened as I was sailing for Delos we touched at the
island of Dia and went ashore. Next morning I sent
the men for fresh water, and myself mounted the hill
to observe the wind; when my men returned bringing
with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate
appearance, whom they had found asleep. They judged
he was a noble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they
might get a liberal ransom for him. I observed his
dress, his walk, his face. There was something in them
which I felt sure was more than mortal. I said to my
men, 'What god there is concealed in that form I know
not, but some one there certainly is. Pardon us, gentle
deity, for the violence we have done you, and give suc-
cess to our undertakings.' Dictys, one of my best hands
for climbing the mast and coming down by the ropes,
and Melanthus, my steersman, and Epopeus, the leader
of the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'Spare your
prayers for us.' So blind is the lust of gain ! When
they proceeded to put him on board I resisted them.
'This ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said
I. 'I have a greater share in her than any of you.' But
Lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat
and attempted to throw me overboard, and I scarcely
saved myself by clinging to the ropes. The rest ap-
proved the deed.

"Then Bacchus (for it was indeed he), as if shaking
off his drowsiness, exclaimed, 'What are you doing with
me? What is this fighting about? Who brought me
here? Where are you going to carry me?' One of
them replied, 'Fear nothing; tell us where you wish

BACCHUS 163

to go and we will take you there.' 'Naxos is my home,'
said Bacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well re-
warded.' They promised so to do, and told me to pilot
the ship to Naxos. Naxos lay to the right, and I was
trimming the sails to carry" us there, when some by signs
and others by whispers signified to me their will that I
should sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy
to Egypt to sell him for a slave. I was confounded and
said, 'L.et some one else pilot the ship ;' withdrawing my-
self from any further agency in their wickedness. They
cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming, 'Don't flatter
yourself that we depend on you for our safety,' took
my place as pilot, and bore away from Naxos.

"Then the god, pretending that he had just become
aware of their treachery, looked out over the sea and
said in a voice of weeping, 'Sailors, these are not the
shores you promised to take me to; yonder island is
not my home. What have I done that you should treat
me so? It is small glory you will gain by cheating a
poor boy.' I wept to hear him, but the crew laughed
at both of us, and sped the vessel fast over the sea. All
at once strange as it may seem, it is true, the vessel
stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as if it was fixed on
the ground. The men, astonished, pulled at their oars,
and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the
aid of both, but all in vain. Ivy twined round the oars
and hindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with
heavy clusters of berries. A vine, laden with grapes,
ran up the mast, and along the sides of the vessel. The
sound of flutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine
spread all around. The god himself had a chaplet of
vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with
ivy. Tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes
and spotted panthers played around him. The men were
seized with terror or madness ; some leaped overboard ;
others preparing to do the same beheld their compan-
ions in the water undergoing a change, their bodies
becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. One
exclaimed, 'What miracle is this !' and as he spoke his
mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales cov-
ered all his body. Another, endeavoring to pull the oar.

164 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

felt his hands shrink lip and presently to be no longer
hands but fins; another, trying to raise his arms to a
rope, found he had no arms, and curving his mutilated
body, jumped into the sea. What had been his legs
became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. The
whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship,
now upon the surface, now under it, scattering the
spray, and spouting the water from their broad nostrils.
Of twenty men I alone was left. Trembling with fear,
the god cheered me. 'Fear not,' said he ; 'steer towards
Naxos.' I obeyed, and when we arrived there, I kindled
the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of Bacchus."

Pentheus here exclaimed, "We have wasted time
enough on this silly story. Take him away and have
him executed without delay." Acetes was led away by
the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but while
they were getting ready the instruments of execution
the prison doors came open of their own accord and the
chains fell from his limbs, and when they looked for
him he was nowhere to be found.

Pentheus would take no v/arning, but instead of send-
ing others, determined to go himself to the scene of
the solemnities. The mountain Citheron was all alive
with worshippers, and the cries of the Bacchanals re-
sounded on every side. The noise roused the anger of
Pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of
a war-horse. He penetrated through the wood and
reached an open space where the chief scene of the
orgies met his eyes. At the same moment the women
saw him ; and first among them his own mother, Agave,
blinded by the god, cried out, "See there the wild boar,
the hugest monster that prowls in these woods ! Come
on, sisters ! I will be the first to strike the wild boar."
The whole band rushed upon him, and while he now
talks less arrogantly, now excuses himself, and now con-
fesses his crime and implores pardon, they press upon
him and wound him. In vain he cries to his aunts to
protect him from his mother. Autonoe seized one arm,
Ino the other, and between them he was torn to pieces,
while his mother shouted, "Victory ! Victory ! we have
done it ; the glory is ours !"

ARIADNE 165

So the worship of Bacchus was established in Greece.

There is an allusion to the story of Bacchus and the
mariners in Milton's "Comus," at line 46. The story
of Circe will be found in Chapter XXIX.

"Bacchus that first from out the purple grapes
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine,
' After the Tuscan mariners transformed,

Coasting the Tyrrhene shore as the winds Hsted
On Circe's island fell (who knows not Circe,
The daughter of the Sun? whose charmed cup
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape,
And downward fell into a grovelling swine)."

ARIADNE

We have seen in the story of Theseus how Ariadne,
the daughter of King Minos, after helping Theseus to
escape from the labyrinth, was carried by him to the
island of Naxos and was left there asleep, while the un-
grateful Theseus pursued his way home without 'her.
Ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, aban-
doned herself to grief. But Venus took pity on her, and
consoled her with the promise that she should have an
immortal lover, instead of the mortal one she had lost.

The island where Ariadne was left was the favorite
island of Bacchus, the same that he wished the Tyrrhe-
nian mariners to carry him to, when they so treacher-
ously attempted to make prize of him. As Ariadne sat
lamenting her fate, Bacchus found her, consoled her,
and made her his wife. As a marriage present he gave
her a golden crown, enriched with gems, and when she
died, he took her crown and threw it up into the sky.
As it mounted the gems grew brighter and were turned
into stars, and preserving its form Ariadne's crown re-
mains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between
the kneeling Hercules and the man who holds the ser-
pent.

Spenser alludes to Ariadne's crown, though he has
made some mistakes in his mythology. It was at the

166 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

wedding of Pirithous, and not Theseus, that the Cen-
taurs and Lapithae quarrelled.

"Look how the crown which Ariadne wore
Upon her ivory forehead that same day
That Theseus her unto his bridal bore,
Then the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray
With the fierce Lapiths which did them dismay;
Being now placed in the firmament,
Through the bright heaven doth her beams display,
And is unto the stars an ornament.
Which round about her move in order excellent."

CHAPTER XXH

THE RURAL DEITIES ERISICHTHON RHCECUS THE

WATER DEITIES CAMEN^E WINDS

THE RURAL DEITIES

Pan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shep-
herds, dwelt in grottos, wandered on the mountains and
in valleys, and amused himself with the chase or in
leading the dances of the nymphs. He was fond of
music, and as we have seen, the inventor of the syrinx,
or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a mas-
terly manner. Pan, like other gods who dwelt in for-
ests, was dreaded by those whose occupations caused
them to pass through the woods by night, for the gloom
and loneliness of such scenes dispose the mind to su-
perstitious fears. Hence sudden fright without any
visible cause was ascribed to Pan, ^d called a Panic
terror.

As the name of the god signifies all, Pan came to be
considered a symbol of the universe and personification
of Nature ; and later still to be regarded as a represen-
tative of all the gods and of heathenism itself.

Sylvanus and Faunus were Latin divinities, whose
characteristics are so nearly the same as those of Pan
that we may safely consider them as the same person-
age under different names.

THE RURAL DEITIES 167

The wood-nymphs, Pan's partners in the dance, were
but one class of nymphs. There were beside them the
Naiads, who presided over brooks and fountains, the
Oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos, and the Ne-
reids, sea-nymphs. The three last named were immor-
tal, but the wood-nymphs, called Dryads or Hamadryads,
were believed to perish with the trees which had been
their abode and with which they had come into exist-
ence. It was therefore an impious act wantonly to de-
stroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were severely
punished, as in the instance of Erisichthon, which we
are about to record.

Milton in his glowing description of the early cre-
ation, thus alludes to Pan as the personification of

Nature :

". . . Universal Pan,
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,
Led on the eternal spring."

And describing Eve's abode :

". . . In shadier bower,
More sacred or sequestered, though but feigned,
Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor nymph
Nor Faunus haunted."

Paradise Lost, B. IV.

It was a pleasing trait in the old Paganism that it
loved to trace in every operation of nature the agency
of deity. The imagination of the Greeks peopled all
the regions of earth and sea with divinities, to whose
agency it attributed those phenomena which our phi-
losophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature.
Sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to
regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost
as much as the head has gained by the substitution. The
poet Wordsworth thus strongly expresses this senti-
ment:

". . . Great God. I'd rather be-
A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn,
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea.

168 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
And hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."

Schiller, in his poem "Die Gotter Griechenlands," ex-
presses his regret for the overthrow of the beautiful
mythology of ancient times in a way which has called
forth an answer from a Christian poet, Mrs. E. Bar-
rett Browning, in her poem called "The Dead Pan."
The two following verses are a specimen :

"By your beauty which confesses
Some chief Beauty conquering you,
By our grand heroic guesses
Through your falsehood at the True,
We will weep 7iot! earth shall roll
Heir to each god's aureole,

And Pan is dead.

'Earth outgrows the mythic fancies
Sung beside her in her youth ;
And those debonaire romances
Sound but dull beside the truth.
Phoebus' chariot course is run !
Look up, poets, to the sun !

Pan, Pan is dead.'

These lines are founded on an early Christian tra-
dition that when the heavenly host told the shepherds
at Bethlehem of the birth of Christ, a deep groan, heard
through all the isles of Greece, told that the great Pan
was dead, and that all the royalty of Olympus was
dethroned and the several deities were sent wandering
in cold and darkness. So Milton in /his "Hymn on the
Nativity" :

"The lonely mountains o'er,
And the resounding shore,

A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
From haunted spring and dale.
Edged with poplar pale.

The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
With flower-enwoven tresses torn.
The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets moufH."

ERISICHTHON 169

ERISICHTHON

Erisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of
the gods. On one occasion he presumed to violate with
the axe a grove sacred to Ceres. There stood in this
grove a venerable oak so large that it seemed a wood
in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon vo-
tive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved
expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of
the tree. Often had the Dryads danced round it hand
in hand. Its trunk measured fifteen cubits round, and
it overtopped the other trees as they overtopped the
shrubbery. But for all that, Erisichthon saw no reason
why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to
cut it down. When he saw them hesitate he snatched
an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed : "I care
not whether it be a tre'e beloved of the goddess or not;
were it the goddess herself it should come down if it
stood in my way." So saying, he lifted the axe and the
oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. When the
first blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the
wound. All the bystanders were horror-struck, and one
of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal
axe. Erisichthon, with a scornful look, said to him,
"Receive the reward of your piety;" and turned against
him the weapon which he had held aside from the tree,
gashed his body with many wounds, and cut oflf his
head. Then from the midst of the oak came a voice,
"I who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of Ceres,
and dying by your hands forewarn you that punish-
ment awaits you." He desisted not from his crime, and
at last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn
by ropes, fell with a crash and prostrated a great part
of the grove in its fall.

The Dryads in dismay at the loss of their compan-
ion and at seeing the pride of the forest laid low, went
in a body to Ceres, all clad in garments of mourning,
and invoked punishment upon Erisichthon. She nod-
ded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain
ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. She
planned a punishment so dire that one wouM pity him,

170 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

if such a culprit as he could be pitied, to deliver him
over to Famine. As Ceres herself could not approach
Famine, for the Fates have ordained that these two
goddesses shall never come together, she called an
Oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these
words: "There is a place in the farthest part of ice-
clad Scythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and
without crops. Cold dwells there, and Fear and Shud-
dering, and Famine. Go and tell the last to take pos-
session of the bowels of Erisichthon. Let not abundance
subdue her, nor the power of my gifts drive her away.
Be not alarmed at the distance" (for Famine dwells
very far from Ceres), "but take my chariot. The
dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you
through the air in a short time." So she gave her the
reins, and she drove away and soon reached Scythia.
On arriving at Mount Caucasus' she stopped the drag-
ons and found Famine in a stony field, pulling up with
teeth and claws the scanty herbage. Her hair was
rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched,
her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight,
so as to show all her bones. As the Oread saw her
afar ofif (for she did not dare to come near), she de-
livered the commands of Ceres ; and, though she stopped
as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as
well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and
turned the dragons' heads and drove back to Thessaly.

Famine obeyed the commands of Ceres and sped
through the air to the dwelling of Erisichthon, entered
the bedchamber of the guilty man, and found him asleep.
She enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself
into him, infusing her poison into his veins. Having
discharged her task, she hastened tc/leave the land of
plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. Erisich-
thon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and
moved his jaws as if eating. When he awoke, his
hunger was raging. Without a moment's delay he would
have food set before him, of whatever kind earth, sea,
or air produces; and complained of hunger even while
he ate. What would have sufficed for a city or a na-
tion, was not enough for him. The more he ate the

ERISICHTHON 171

more he craved. His hunger was hke the sea, which re-
ceives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like fire,
that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still
voracious for more.

His property rapidly diminished under the unceasing
demands of his appetite, but his hunger continued un-
abated. At length he had spent all and had only his
daughter left, a daughter worthy of a better parent.
Her too he sold. She scorned to be the slave of a pur-
chaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands
in prayer to Neptune. He heard her prayer, and though
her new master was not far ofif and had his eye upon
her a moment before, Neptune changed her form and
made her assume that of a fisherman busy at his oc-
cupation. Her master, looking for her and seeing her
in her altered form, addressed her and said, "Good
fisherman, whither went the maiden whom I saw just
now, with hair dishevelled and in humble garb, standing
about where you stand? Tell me truly; so may your
luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get
away." She perceived that her prayer was answered
and rejoiced inwardly at hearing herself inquired of
about herself. She replied, "Pardon me, stranger, but
I have been so intent upon my line that I have seen
nothing else; but I wish I may never catch another fish
if I believe any woman or other person except myself
to have been hereabouts for some time." He was de-
ceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped.
Then she resumed her own form. Her father was well
pleased to find her still with him, and the money too that
he got by the sale of her; so he sold her again. But
she was changed by the favor of Neptune as often as
she was sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox,
and now a stag, got away from her purchasers and
came home. By this base method the starving father
procured food ; but not enough for his wants, and at last
hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and he strove
to nourish his body by eating his body, till death re-
lieved him from the vengeance of Ceres.

172 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROkS

RHCECUS

The Hamadryads could appreciate services as well as
pifnish injuries. The story of Rhoecus proves this.
Rhoecus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall,
ordered his servants to prop it up. The nymph, who
had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came
and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved
her life and bade him ask what reward he would.
Rhoecus boldly asked her love and the nymph yielded to
his desire. She at the same time charged him to be
constant and told him that a bee should be her mes-
senger and let him know when she would admit his
society. One time the bee came to Rhoecus when he
was playing at draughts and he carelessly brushed it
away. This so incensed the nymph that she deprived
him of sight.

Our countryman, J. R. Lowell, has taken this story
for the subject of one of his shorter poems. He intro-
duces it thus :

"Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece,
As full of freedom, youth and beauty still,
As the immortal freshness of that grace
Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze."

THE WATER DEITIES

Oceanus and Tethys were the Titans who ruled over
the watery element. When Jove and his brothers over-
threw the Titans and assumed their power, Neptune and
Amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the waters in
place of Oceanus and Tethys. /

NEPTUNE

Neptune was the chief of the water deities. The
symbol of his power was the trident, or spear with
three points, with which he used to shatter rocks, to
call forth or subdue storms, to shake the shores and the
like. He created the horse and was the patron of

THE WATER DEITIES /'^'^^

horse races. His own horses had brazen hoofs and
golden manes. They drew his chariot over the sea,
which became smooth before him, while the monsters
of the deep gambolled about his path.

AMPHITRITE

Amphitrite was the wife of Neptune. She was the
daughter of Nereus and Doris, and the mother of Triton.
Neptune, to pay his court to Amphitrite, came riding on
a dolphin. Having won her he rewarded the dolphin
by placing him among the stars.

NEREUS AND DORIS

Nereus and Doris were the parents of the Nereids,
the most celebrated of whom were Amphitrite, Thetis,
the mother of Achilles, and Galatea, who was loved
by the Cyclops Polyphemus. Nereus was distinguished
for his knowledge and his love of truth and justice,
whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy
was also assigned to him.

TRITON AND PROTEUS

Triton was the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, and
the poets make him his father's trumpeter. Proteus
was also a son of Neptune. He, like Nereus, is styled
a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of future
events. His peculiar power was that of changing his
shape at will.

THETIS

Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, was so
beautiful that Jupiter himself sought her in marriage;
but having learned from Prometheus the Titan that
Thetis should bear a son who should grow greater than
his father, Jupiter desisted from his suit and decreed
that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal. By the
aid of Chiron the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning

r^yj STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

the goddess for his bride and their son was the re-
nowned Achilles. In our chapter on the Trojan war
it will appear that Thetis was a faithful mother to him,
aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his in-
terests from the first to the last.

LEUCOTHEA AND PAL^MON

Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and wife of Athamas,
flying from her frantic husband with her little son Meli-
certes in her arms, sprang from a cliff into the sea.
The gods, out of compassion, made her a goddess of
the sea, under the name of Leucothea, and him a god,
under that of Palsemon. Both were held powerful to
save from shipwreck and were invoked by sailors.
Palsemon was usually represented riding on a dolphin.
The Isthmian games were celebrated in his honor. He
was called Portunus by the Romans, and believed to
have jurisdiction of the ports and shores.

Milton alludes to all these deities in the song at the
conclusion of "Comus" :

". . . Sabrina fair,
Listen and appear to us,
In name of great Oceanus ;
By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethys' grave, majestic pace,
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard's hook,*
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell,
By Leucothea's lovely hands,
And her son who rules the strands.
By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet.
And the songs of Sirens sweet;" etc.

Armstrong, the poet of the "Art of preserving
Health," under the inspiration of Hygeia, the goddess
of health, thus celebrates the Naiads. Paeon is a name
both of Apollo and yEsculapius.

^ Proteus,

THE WATER DEITIES 175

"Come, ye Naiads ! to the fountains lead !
Propitious maids! the task remains to sing
Your gifts (so Paeon, so the powers of Health
Command), to praise your crystal element.
O comfortable streams ! with eager lips
And trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff
New life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins.
No warmer cups the rural ages knew.
None warmer sought the sires of humankind;
Happy in temperate peace their equal days
Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth
And sick dejection; still serene and pleased,
Blessed with divine immunity from ills,
Long centuries they lived; their only fate
Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death."

THE CAMENyE

By this name the Latins designated the Muses, but
included under it also some other deities, principally
nymphs of fountains. Egeria was one of them, whose
fountain and grotto are still shown. It was said that
Numa, the second king of Rome, was favored by this
nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him
those lessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied
in the institutions of his rising nation. After the death
of Numa the nymph pined away and was changed into
a fountain.

Byron, in "Childe Harold," Canto IV., thus alludes
to Egeria and her grotto :

"Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover,
Egeria ! all thy heavenly bosom beating
For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;
The purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting
With her most starry canopy;" etc.

Tennyson, also, in his "Palace of Art," gives us a
glimpse of the royal lover expecting the interview :

"Holding one hand against his ear.
To list a footfall ere he saw
The wood-nymph, stayed the Tuscan king to hear
Of wisdom and of law."

176 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

THE WINDS

When so many less active agencies were personified,
it is not to be supposed that the winds failed to be so.
They were Boreas or Aquilo, the north wind; Zephyrus
or Favonius, the west; Notus or Auster, the south; and
Eurus, the east. The first two have been chiefly cele-
brated by the poets, the former as the type of rude-
ness, the latter of gentleness. Boreas loved the nymph
Orithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met
with poor success. It was hard for him to breathe
gently, and sighing was out of the question. Weary at last
of fruitless endeavors, he acted out his true character,
seized the maiden and carried her off. Their children
were Zetes and Calais, winged warriors, who accom-
panied the Argonautic expedition, and did good service
in an encounter with those monstrous birds the Harpies.

Zephyrus was the lover of Flora. Milton alludes
to them in "Paradise Lost," where he describes Adam
waking and contemplating Eve still asleep.

". . . He on his side
Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love,
Hung over her enamored, and beheld
Beauty which, whether waking or asleep.
Shot forth peculiar graces ; then with voice,
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: 'Awake!
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,
Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'"

Dr. Young, the poet of the "Night Thoughts," ad-
dressing the idle and luxurious, says : /

"Ye delicate ! who nothing can support
(Yourselves most insupportable) for whom
The winter rose must blow, . . .
. . . and silky soft
Favonius breathe still softer or be chid!'*

THE THREE FATES.
From painting by Michael Ang^elo. Pitti Gallery, Florence.

HERCULES IN BATTLE WITH A CENTAUR.
Flotence. ' John of Bologna.

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

(Continued)

CHAPTER XXIII

ACHELOUS AND HERCULES ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS

ANTIGONE PENELOPE

ACHELOUS AND HERCULES

The river-god Achelous toid the story of Erisichthon
to Theseus and his companions, whom he was enter-
taining at his hospitable board, while they were delayed
on their journey by the overflow of his waters. Having
finished his story, he added, "But why should I tell of
other persons' transformations when I myself am an
instance of the possession of this power? Sometimes I
l^ecome a serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on
my head. Or I should say I once could do so; but now
I have but one horn, having lost one." And here he
groaned and was silent.

Theseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how
he lost his horn. To which question the river-god re-
plied as follows: "Who likes to tell of his defeats?
Yet I will not hesitate to relate mine, comforting my-
self with the thought of the greatness of my conqueror,
for it was Hercules. Perhaps you have heard of the
fame of Dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host
of suitors strove to win. Hercules and myself were of
the number, and the rest yielded to us two. He urged
in his behalf his descent from Jove and his labors by
which he had exceeded the exactions of Juno, his step-
mother. I, on the other hand, said to the father of the
maiden, 'Behold me, the king of the waters that flow

177

178 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

through your land. I am no stranger from a foreign
shore, but belong to the country, a part of your realm.
Let it not stand in my way that royal Juno owes me no
enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. As for this
man, who boasts himself the son of Jove, it is either
a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it
cannot be true except by his mother's shame.' As I said
this Hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty re-
strained his rage. 'My hand will answer better than
my tongue,' said he. 'I yield to you the victory in words,
but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' With that
he advanced towards me, and I was ashamed, after
what I had said, to yield. I threw off my green vesture
and presented myself for the struggle. He tried to
throw me, now attacking my head, now my body. My
bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain.
For a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict.
We each kept our position, determined not to yield, foot
to foot, I bending over him, clenching his hand in mine,
with my forehead almost touching his. Thrice Hercules
tried to throw me off, and the fourth time he succeed-
ed, brought me to the ground, and himself upon my
back. I tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had
fallen on me. I struggled to get my arms at liberty,
panting and reeking with perspiration. He gave me no
chance to recover, but seized my throat. My knees
were on the earth and my mouth in the dust.

"Finding that I was no match for him in the warrior's
art, I resorted to others and glided away in the form
of a serpent. I curled my body in a coil and hissed
at him with my forked tongue. He smiled scornfully
at this, and said, Tt was the labor ^i my infancy to
conquer snakes.' So saying he clasped my neck with
his hands. I was almost choked, and struggled to get
my neck out of his grasp. Vanquished in this form, I
tried what alone remained to me and assumed the form
of a bull. He grasped my neck with his arm, and drag-
ging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on
the sand. Nor was this enough. His ruthless hand rent
my horn from my head. The Naiades took it, conse-
crated it, and filled it with fragrant flowers. Plenty

ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS /l79J

adopted my horn and made it her own, and called it
'Cornucopia.' "

The ancients were fond of findino- a hidden meaning
in their mythological tales. They explain this fight of
Achelous with Hercules by saying Achelous was a river
that in seasons of rain overflowed its banks. When
the fable says that Achelous loved Dejanira, and sought
a union with her, the meaning is that the river in its
windings flowed through part of Dejanira's kingdom.
It was said to take the form of a snake because of
its winding, and of a bull because it made a brawling
or roaring in its course. When the river swelled, it
made itself another channel. Thus its head was horned.
Hercules prevented the return of these periodical over-
flows by embankments and canals ; and therefore he was
said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his
horn. Finally, the lands formerly subject to overflow,
but now redeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant
by the horn of plenty.

There is another account of the origin of the Cornu-
copia. Jupiter at his birth vv^as committed by his mother
Rhea to the care of the daughters of Melisseus, a Cretan
king. They fed the infant deity with the milk of the
goat Amalthea. Jupiter broke off one of the horns
of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it
with the wonderful power of becoming filled with what-
ever the possessor might wish.

The name of Amalthea is also given by some writers
to the mother of Bacchus. It is thus used by Milton,
"Paradise Lost," Book IV.:

". . . That Nyseian isle.
Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,
V/hom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove,
Hid Amalthea and her florid son,
Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye."

ADMETUS A-MD ALCESTIS

,-^Esc-ulii pius. the son of Apollo, Ai:as_endowed by his
father wi th su ch skill in the healingarmiar~h'e'even

(mp STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

restored the dead to life_-At this Pluto took alarm,
*-aedpTA:ailjd on Jupiter to launch a thunderbolt at
yEsculapius. Apollo was indignant at the destruction
of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the inno-
cent workmen who had made the thunderbolt. These
were the Cyclopes, who have their workshop under
Mount ^tna, from which the smoke and flames of
their furnaces are constantly issuing. Apollo shot his
arrows at the Cyclopes, which so incensed Jupiter that
he condemned him as a punishment to become the serv-
ant of a mortal for the space of one year. Accord-
ingly Apollo went into the service of Admetus, king of
Thessaly, and pastured his flocks for him on the verdant
banks of the river Amphrysos.

Admetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of

Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, who promised her to

him who should come for her in a chariot drawn by

lions and boars. This task Admetus performed by the

. assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made happy

rin the possession of Alcestis. But Admetus fell ill,
and being near to death, Apollo prevailed on the Fates
to spare him on condition that some one would con-
sent to die in his stead. Admetus, in his joy at this
reprieve, thought little of the ransom, and perhaps re-
membering the declarations of attachment which he had
often heard from his courtiers and dependents fancied
that it would be easy to find a substitute. But it was
not so. Brave warriors, who would willingly have per-
illed their lives for their prince, shrunk from the thought
of dying for him on the bed of sickness ; and old serv-
ants who had experienced his bounty and that of his
house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay
down the scanty remnant of their days to show their
gratitude. Men asked, "Why does not one of his par-
ents do it? They cannot in the course of nature live
much longer, and who can feel like them the call to
rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?" But
the parents, distressed though they were at the thought
of losing him, shrunk from the call. Then Alcestis, with
a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the sub-
stitute. Admetus, fond as he was of life, would not

ANTIGONE 181

have submitted to receive it at such a cost; but there
was no remedy. The condition imposed by the Fates
had been met, and the decree was irrevocable. Alcestis
sickened as Admetus revived, and she was rapidly sink-
ing to the grave.

Just at this time Hercules arrived at the palace of
Admetus, and found all the inmates in great distress
for the impending loss of the devoted wife and beloved
mistress. Hercules, to whom no labor was too arduous,
resolved to attempt her rescue. He went and lay in
wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen,
and when Death came for his prey, he seized him and
forced him to resign his victim. Alcestis recovered, and
was restored to her husband.

Milton alludes to the story of Alcestis in his Sonnet
"on his deceased wife :"

"Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave.
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, '
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint."

J. R. Lowell has chosen the "Shepherd of King Ad-
metus" for the subject of a short poem. He makes that
event the first introduction of poetry to men.

"Men called him but a shiftless youth,
In whom no good they saw,
And yet unwittingly, in truth,

They made his careless words their law.

"And day by day more holy grew
Each spot where he had trod,
Till after-poets only knew

Their first-born brother was a god."

ANTIGONE

A large proportion both of the interesting persons
and of th^ exalted acts of legendary Greece belongs to
the female sex. Antigone was as bright an example
of filial and sisterly fidelity as was Alcestis of connu-

182 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

bial devotion. She was the daughter of QEdipus and
Jocasta, who with all their descendants were the victims
of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction.
CEdipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was
driven forth from his kingdom Thebes, dreaded and
abandoned by all men, as an object of divine vengeance.
Antigone, his daughter, alone shared his wanderings and
remained with him till he died, and then returned to
Thebes.

Her brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, had agreed to
share the kingdom between them, and reign alternately
year by year. The first year fell to the lot of Eteocles,
who, when his time expired, refused to surrender the
kingdom to his brother. Polynices fled to Adrastus,
king of Argos, who gave him his daughter in marriage,
and aided him with an army to enforce his claim to the
kingdom. This led to the celebrated expedition of the
"Seven against Thebes," which furnished ample ma-
terials for the epic and tragic poets of Greece.

Amphiaraus, the brother-in-law of Adrastus, opposed
the enterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by
his art that no one of the leaders except Adrastus would
live to return. But Amphiaraus, on his marriage to
Eriphyle, the king's sister, had agreed that whenever he
and Adrastus should differ in opinion, the decision
should be left to Eriphyle. Polynices, knowing this,
gave Eriph}/le the collar of Harmonia, and thereby
gained her to his interest. This collar or necklace was
a present which Vulcan had given to Harmonia on her
marriage with Cadmus, and Polynices had taken it with
him on his flight from Thebes. Eriphyle could not re-
sist so tempting a bribe, and by her de/!ision the war was
resolved on, and Amphiaraus went to his certain fate.
He bore his part bravely in the contest, but could not
avert his destiny. Pursued by the enemy, he fled along
the river, when a thunderbolt launched by Jupiter
opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and his chari-
oteer were swallowed up.

It would not be in place here to detail all the acts
of heroism or atrocity which marked the contest; but
we must not omit to record the fidelity of Evadne as

ANTIGONE 183"

an offset to the weakness of Eriphyle. Capaneus, the
husband of Evadne, in the ardor of the fight declared
that he would force his way into the city in spite of
Jove himself. Placing a ladder against the wall he
mounted, but Jupiter, offended at his impious language,
struck him with a thunderbolt. When his obsequies
were celebrated, Evadne cast herself on his funeral pile
and perished.

Early in the contest Eteocles consulted the sooth-
sayer Tiresias as to the issue. Tiresias in his youth
had by chance seen Minerva bathing. The goddess in
her wrath deprived him of his sight, but afterwards
relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of
future events. When consulted by Eteocles, he de^
clared that victory should fall to Thebes if MenoeceusJ
the son of Creon, gave himself a voluntary victim. The
heroic youth, learning the response, threw away his life
in the first encounter.

The siege continued long, with various success. At
length both hosts agreed that the brothers should de-
cide their quarrel by single combat. They fought and
fell by each other's hands. The armies then renewed
the fight, and at last the invaders were forced to yield, ;
and fled, leaving their dead unburied. Creon, the uncle,
of the fallen princes, now become king, caused Eteocles/
to be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered thq*
body of Polynices to lie where it fell, forbidding everj
one on pain of death to give it burial.

Antigone, the sister of Polynices, heard with indigna
tion the revolting edict which consigned her brother'
body to the dogs and vultures, depriving it of thos
rites which were considered essential to the repose of
the dead. Unmoved by the dissuading counsel of an
affectionate but timid sister, and unable to procure as-
sistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to
bury the body with her own hands. She was detected
in the act, and Creon gave orders that she should be
buried alive, as having deliberately set at naught the
solemn edict of the city. Her lover, H?emon, the son
of Creon, unable to avert her fate, would not survive
her, and fell by his own hand.

184 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Antigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of
the Grecian poet Sophocles. Mrs. Jameson, in her
"Characteristics of Women," has compared her char-
acter with that of Cordelia, in Shakspeare's "King
Lear." The perusal of her reinarks cannot fail to
gratify our readers.

The following is the lamentation of Antigone over
Qidipus, when death has at last relieved him from his
sufferings :

"Alas ! I only wished I might have died
With my poor father; wherefore should I ask
For longer hfe?

O, I was fond of misery with him;
E'en what was most unlovely grew beloved
When he was with me. O my dearest father.
Beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid,
Worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still
Wast dear, and shalt be ever."

Francklin's Sophocles.

PENF.LOPE

Penelope is another of those mythic heroines whose
beauties were rather those of character and conduct
than of person. She was the daughter of Icarius, a
Spartan prince. Ulysses, king of Ithaca, sought her
in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. When
the moment came for the bride to leave her father's
house, Icarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting
with his daughter, tried to persuade her to remain with
him, and not accompany her husband to Ithaca. Ulysses
gave Penelope her choice, to stay or go with him.
Penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her
face. Icarius urged her no further, but when she was
gone erected a statue to Modesty on th^/spot where they
parted.

Ulysses and Penelope had not enjoyed their union
more than a year when it was interrupted by the events
which called Ulysses to the Trojan war. During his
long absence, and when it was doubtful whether he still
lived, and highly improbable that he would ever return,
Penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from
whom there seemed no refuge but in choosing one of

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 185

them for her husband. Penelope, however, employed
every art to gain time, still hoping for Ulysses' return.
One of her arts of delay was engaging in the prepara-
tion of a robe for the funeral canopy of Laertes, her
husband's father. She pledged herself to make her
choice among the suitors when the robe was finished.
During the day she worked at the robe, but in the night
she undid the work of the day. This is the famous
Penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial expres-
sion for anything which is perpetually doing but never
done. The rest of Penelope's history will be told when
we give an account of her husband's adventures.

CHAPTER XXIV

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE ARIST^US AMPHION LINUS

THAMYRIS MARSYAS MELAMPUS MUS^US

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

Orpheus was the s on of Apollo and the Muse_Cal:_
Hope. _He^_T^ s ~'presenTOJ~'by li istather witha Lyre"

"^^^S^:ht_to_plixIupS53t^^

fection_Jbat--othingLxouId_witi^^ of His"

nmsMi. Not only his fellow-mortals'but wild~bFasts wefg^
. softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid
by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay,
the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm.
The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed
somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes.

Hymen had been called to bless with his presence
the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice; but though he
attended, he brought no happy omens with him. His
very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes.
Tn coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly
after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs,
her companions, was seen by the shepherd Aristaus,
who was struck with her beauty and made advances to

186 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

her. She fled, and in flying trod upon a snake in the
grass, was bitten in the foot, and died. Orpheus sang
his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both gods
and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek
his wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by
a cave situated on the side of the promontory of Tsenarus
vand arrived at the Stygian realm. He passed through
crowds of ghosts and presented himself before the
throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanying the
words with the lyre, he sung, "O deities of the under-
world, to whom all we who live must come, hear my
words, for they are true. I come not to spy out the
secrets of Tartarus, nor to try my strength against the
three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards the en-
trance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years
the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely
end. Love has led me here, Love, a god all power-
ful with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old tradi-
tions say true, not less so here. I implore you by these
abodes full of terror, these realms of silence and un-
created things, unite again the thread of Eurydice's life.
We all are destined to you, and sooner or later must
pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have
filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. But till
then grant her to me, I beseech you. H you deny me I
cannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of
us both."

As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed
tears. Tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a
moment his efforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still,
the vulture ceased to tear the giant's liver, the daughters
of Danaiis rested from their task of drawing water in
a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to listen. Then
for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies
were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and
Pluto himself gave way. Eurydice was called. She
came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with
her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take her
away with him on one condition, that he should not
turn around to look at her till they should have reached
the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 187

their way, he leading, she following, through passages
dark and steep, in total silence, till they had nearly
reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when
Orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure him-
self that she was still following, cast a glance behind
him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching
out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only
the air ! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot re-
proach her husband, for how can she blame his impa-
tience to behold her? "Farewell," she said, "a. last fare-
well," and was hurried away, so fast that the sound
hardly reached his ears.

Orpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought per-
mission to return and try once more for her release;
but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused pas-
sage. Seven days he lingered about the brink, without
food or sleep ; then bitterly accusing of cruelty the
powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks
and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving
the oaks from their stations. He held himself aloof
from womankind, dwelling constantly on the recollection
of his sad mischance. The Thracian maidens tried their
best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances.
They bore with him as long as they could; but finding
him insensible one day, excited by the rites of Bacchus,
one of them, exclaimed, "See yonder our despiser !" and
threw at him her javelin. The weapon, as soon as it
came within the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his
feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But
the women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the
music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were
stained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from
limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river
Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music,
to which the shores responded a plaintive symphony.
The Muses gathered up the fragments of his body and
buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said
to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other
part of Greece. His lyre was placed by Jupiter among
the stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus,
where he sought out his Eurydice and embraced her

188 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together
now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she ; and Orpheus
gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring
a penalty for a thoughtless glance.

The story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an
illustration of the power of music, for his "Ode for St.
Cecilia's Day." The following stanza relates the con-
clusion of the story :

"But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes;
Again she falls, again she dies, she dies !
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
No crime was thine, if 't is no crime to love.
Now under hanging mountains,
Beside the falls of fountains,
Or where Hebrus wanders,
Rolling in meanders.
All alone,

He makes his moan.
And calls her ghost,
Forever, ever, ever lost !
Now with furies surrounded.
Despairing, confounded.
He trembles, he glows.
Amidst Rhodope's snows.
See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies;
Hark! Hsemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries;

Ah, see, he dies !
Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue:
Eurydice the woods
Eurydice the floods
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung."

The superior melody of the nightingale's song over
the grave of Orpheus is alluded to by Southey in his
"Thalaba" :

"Then on his ear what sounds
Of harmony arose!
Far music and the distance-mellowed song
From bowers of merriment;
The waterfall remote;
The murmuring of the leafy groves;
The single nightingale
Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned,
That never from that most melodious bird

ARIST^US, THE BEE-KEEPER 189

Singing a love song to his brooding mate,

Did Thracian shepherd by the grave

Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody,
Though there the spirit of the sepulchre

All his own power infuse, to swell

The incense that he loves."

ARIST^US, THE BEE-KEEPER

Man avails himself of the instincts of the inferior
animals for his own advantage. Hence sprang the art
of keeping bees. Honey must first have been known as
a wild product, the bees building their structures in hol-
low trees or holes in the rocks, or any similar cavity that
chance offered. Thus occasionally the carcass of a dead
animal w^ould be occupied by the bees for that purpose.
It was no doubt from some such incident that the super-
stition arose that the bees were engendered by the de-
caying flesh of the animal ; and Virgil, in the following
story, shows how this supposed fact may be turned to
account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost
by disease or accident :

Aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees,
was the son of the water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had
perished, and he resorted for aid to his mother. He
stood at the river side and thus addressed her: "O
mother, the pride of my life is taken from me ! I have
lost my precious bees. My care and skill have availed me
nothing, and you my mother have not warded off from
me the blow of misfortune." His mother heard these
complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the
river, with her attendant nymphs around her. They
were engaged in female occupations, spinning and weav-
ing, while one told stories to amuse the rest. The sad
voice of Aristaeus interrupting their occupation, one of
them put her head above the water and seeing him. re-
turned and gave information to his mother, who ordered
that he should be brought into her presence. The river
at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while
it stood curled like a mountain on either side. He de-
scended to the region where the fountains of the great
rivers lie ; he saw the enormous receptacles of waters

190 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

and was almost deafened with the roar, while he sur-
veyed them hurrying off in various directions to water
the face of the earth. Arriving at his mother's apart-
ment, he was hospitably received by Cyrene and her
nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties.
They first poured out libations to Neptune, then regaled
themselves with the feast, and after that Cyrene thus
addressed him : "There is an old prophet named Proteus,
who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of Neptune,
whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold
him in great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows
all things, past, present, and to come. He can tell you,
my son, the cause of the mortality among your bees,
and how you may remedy it. But he will not do it vol-
untarily, however you may entreat him. You must com-
pel him by force. If you seize him and chain him, he
will answer your questions in order to get released, for
he cannot by all his arts get away if you hold fast the
chains. I will carry you to his cave, where he comes
at noon to take his midday repose. Then you may
easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured,
his resort is to a power he possesses of changing himself
into various forms. He will become a wild boar or a
fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. Or
he will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the
rush of water, so as to tempt you to let go the chain,
when he will make his escape. But you have only to
keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his
arts unavailing, he will return to his own figure and
obey your commands." So saying she sprinkled her son
with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and im-
mediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage
his heart, while perfume breathed alK around him.

The nymph led her son to the prophet's cave and con-
cealed him among the recesses of the rocks, while she
herself took her place behind the clouds. When noon
came and the hour when men and herds retreat from
the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, Proteus
issued from the water, follov/ed by his herd of sea-calves
which spread themselves along the shore. He sat on
the rock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on

ARISTyEUS, THE BEE-KEEPER 191

the floor of the cave and went to sleep. Aristaeus hardly-
allowed him to get fairly asleep before he fixed the fet-
ters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus, waking and
finding himself captured, immediately resorted to his
arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible
wild beast, in rapid succession. But finding all would
not do, he at last resumed his own form and addressed
the youth in angry accents : "Who are you, bold youth,
who thus invade my abode, and what do you want of
me?" Aristseus replied, "Proteus, you know already,
for it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you.
And do you also cease your efforts to elude me. I am
led hither by divine assistance, to know from you the
cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it." At
these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes
with a piercing look, thus spoke : "You receive the
merited reward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met
her death, for in flying from you she trod upon a serpent,
of whose bite she died. To avenge her death, the
nymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction to
your bees. You have to appease their anger, and thus
it must be done: Select four bulls, of perfect form and
size, and four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to
the nymphs, and sacrifice the animals, leaving their car-
casses in the leafy grove. To Orpheus and Eurydice
you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their re-
sentment. Returning after nine days, you will examine
the bodies of the cattle slain and see what' will befall."
Aristseus faithfully obeyed these directions. He sacri-
ficed the cattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he
ofl!"ered funeral honors to the shades of Orpheus and
Eurydice; then returning on the ninth day he examined
the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate ! a
SAvarm of bees had taken possession of one of the car-
casses and were pursuing their lal)ors there as in a hive.

In "The Task," Cowper alludes to the story of
Aristseus, when speaking of the ice-palace built by the
Empress Anne of Russia. He has been describing the
fantastic forms which ice assumes in connection with
waterfalls, etc. :

192 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"Less worthy of applause though more admired
Because a novelty, the work of man,
Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,
Thy most magnificent and mighty freak,
The wonder of the north. No forest fell
When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores
T' enrich thy walls ; but thou didst hew the floods
And make thy marble of the glassy wave.
In such a palace Aristseus found
Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale
Of his lost bees to her maternal ear."

Milton also appears to have had Cyrene and her
domestic scene in his mind when he describes to us
Sabrina, the nymph of the river Severn, in the Guard-
ian-spirit's Song in "Comus" :

"Sabrina fair!
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave

In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honor's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake !
Listen and save."

The following are other celebrated mythical poets
and musicians, some of whom were hardly inferior to
Orpheus himself :

AMPHION

Amphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen
of Thebes. With his twin brother Zethus he was ex-
posed at birth on Mount Cithasron, where they grew up
among the shepherds, not knowing their parentage.
Mercury gave Amphion a lyre and taught him to play
upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and
tending the flocks. Meanwhile Antiope, their mother,
who had been treated with great cruelty by Lycus, the
usurping king of Thebes, and by Dirce, his wife, found
means to inform her children of their rights and to
summon them to her assistance. With a band of their
fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying
Dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her

MELAMPUS 193

cill she was dead. Amphion, having become king of
Thebes, fortified the city with a wall. It is said that
when he played on his lyre the stones moved of their
own accord and took their places in the wall.

See Tennyson's poem of "Amphion" for an amusing
use made of this story.

LINUS

Linus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but
having one day reproved his pupil rather harshly, he
roused the anger of Hercules, who struck him with his
lyre and killed him.

THAMYRIS

An ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption
challenged the Muses to a trial of skill, and being over-
come in the contest, was deprived by them of his sight.
Milton alludes to him with other blind bards, when
speaking of his own blindness, "Paradise Lost," Book
UL, 35.

MARSYAS

Minerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the
delight of all the celestial auditors ; but the mischievous
urchin Cupid having dared to laugh at the queer face
which the goddess made while playing, Minerva threw
the instrument indignantly away, and it fell down to
earth, and was found by Marsyas. He blew upon
it, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he
was tempted to challenge Apollo himself to a musical
contest. The god of course triumphed, and punished
Marsyas by flaying him alive.

MELAMPUS

Melampus was the first mortal endowed with pro-
phetic powers. Before his house there stood an oak
tree containing a serpent's nest. The old serpents were
killed by the servants, but Melampus took care of the
young ones and fed them carefully. One day when he
was asleep under the oak the serpents licked his ears

194 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

with their tongues. On awaking he was astonished to
find that he now understood the language of birds and
creeping things. This knowledge enabled him to fore-
tell future events, and he became a renowned soothsayer.
At one time his enemies took him captive and kept him
strictly imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the night
heard the woodworms in the timbers talking together,
and found out by what they said that the timbers were
nearly eaten through and the roof would soon fall in.
He told his captors and demanded to be let out, warn-
ing them also. They took his warning, and thus escaped
destruction, and rewarded Melampus and held him in
high honor.

MUS^US

A semi-mythological personage who was represented
by one tradition to be the son of Orpheus. He is said
to have written sacred poems and oracles. Milton
couples his name with that of Orpheus in his 'Tl
Penseroso" :

"But O, sad virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musasus from his bower,
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as warbled to the string.
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.
And made Hell grant what love did seek."

CHAPTER XXV

ARION IBYCUS SIMONIDES SAPPHO

The poets whose adventures compose this chapter
were real persons some of whose works yet remain,
and their influence on poets who succeeded them is yet
more important than their poetical remains. The adven-
tures recorded of them in the following stories rest on
the same authority as other narratives of the "Age of
Fable," that is, of the poets who have told them. In
their present form, the first two are translated from

ARION 195

the German, Arion from Schlegel, and Ibycus from
Schiller.

ARION

Arion was a famous musician, and dwelt in the court
of Periander, king of Corinth, with whom he was a
great favorite. There was to be a musical contest in
Sicily, and Arion longed to compete for the prize.
He told his wish to Periander, who besought him like
a brother to give up the thought. "Pray stay with
me," he said, "and be contented. He who strives to
win may lose." Arion answered, "A wandering life
best suits the free heart of a poet. The talent which
a god bestowed on me, I would fain make a source of
pleasure to others. And if I win the prize, how will
the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness
of my widespread fame !" He went, won the prize, and
embarked with his wealth in a Corinthian ship for home.
On the second morning after setting sail, the wind
breathed mild and fair. "O Periander," he exclaimed,
"dismiss your fears ! Soon shall you forget them in my
embrace. With what lavish offerings will we display
our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at
the festal board !" The wind and sea continued propi-
tious. Not a cloud dimmed the firmament. He had
not trusted too much to the ocean but he had to man.
He overheard the seamen exchanging hints with one
another, and found they were plotting to possess them-
selves of his treasure. Presently they surrounded him
loud and mutinous, and said, "Arion, you must die! H
you would have a grave on shore, yield yourself to die
on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the
sea." "Will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said
he. "Take my gold, and welcome. I willingly buy
my life at that price." "No, no ; we cannot spare you.
Your life would be too dangerous to us. Where could
we go to escape from Periander, if he should know that
you had been robbed by us? Your gold would be of
little use to us, if on returning home, we could never
more be free from fear." "Grant me, then," said he, "a
last request, since nought will avail to save my life, that I

196 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

may die, as I have lived, as becomes a bard. When I
shall have sung my death song, and my harp-strings
shall have ceased to vibrate, then I will bid farewell to
life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate." This prayer,
like the others, would have been unheeded, they
thought only of their booty, but to hear so famous a
musician, that moved their rude hearts. "Suffer me,"
he added, "to arrange my dress. Apoll o will not favor
me unless I be clad in my minstrel garb."

He clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and
purple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful
folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned
with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders
flowed his hair perfumed with odors. His left hand
held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he
struck its chords. Like one inspired, he seemed to
drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray.
The seamen gazed with admiration. He strode forward
to the vessel's side and looked down into the deep blue
sea. Addressing his lyre, he sang, "Companion of my
voice, come with me to the realm of shades. Though
Cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can
tame his rage. Ye heroes of Elysium, who have passed
the darkling flood, ye happy souls, soon shall I join
y6ur band. Yet can ye relieve my grief ? Alas, I leave
my friend behind me. Thou, who didst find thy Euryd-
ice, and lose her again as soon as found ; when she had
vanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful
light ! I must away, but I will not fear. The gods look
down upon us. Ye who slay me unoffending, when I
am no more, your time of trembling shall come. Ye
Nereids, receive your guest, who thraws himself upon
your mercy!" So saying, he sprang /nto the deep sea.
The waves covered him, and the seamen held on their
way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of de-
tection.

But the strains of. his music had drawn round him
the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and Dolphins fol-
lowed the ship as if chained by a spell. While he
struggled in the waves, a Dolphin offered him his back,
and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. At the

ARION 197

spot where he landed, a monument of brass was after-
wards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the
memory of the event. .

When Arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own
element, Arion thus poured forth his thanks : "Farewell,
thou faithful, friendly fish ! Would that I could reward
thee ; but thou canst not wend with me, nor I with thee.
Companionship we may not have. May Galatea, queen
of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of
the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of
the deep."

Arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before
him the towers of Corinth. He journeyed on, harp in
hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness,
forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what re-
mained, his friend and his lyre. He entered the hos-
pitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of
Periander. "I come back to thee, my friend," he said.
"The talent which a god bestowed has been the delight
of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my
well-earned treasure; yet I retain the consciousness of
wide spread fame." Then he told Periander all the won-
derful events that had befallen him, who heard him
with amazement. "Shall such wickedness triumph?" said
he. "Then in vain is power lodged in my hands. That
we may discover the criminals, you must remain here
in concealment, and so they will approach without sus-
picion." When the ship arrived in the harbor, he sum-
moned the mariners before him. "Have you heard
anything of Arion?" he inquired. "I anxiously look for
his return." They replied, "We left him well and pros-
perous in Tarentum." As they said these words, Arion
stepped forth and faced them. His well-proportioned
limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see, his
tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned
his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath,
and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair per-
fumed with odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right
the ivory wand with which he struck its chords. They
fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt had struck
them. "We meant to murder him, and he has become

198 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

a god. O Earth, open and receive us !" Then Periander
spoke. "He lives, the master of the lay! Kind Heaven
protects the poet's life. As for you, I invoke not the
spirit of vengeance ; Arion wishes not your blood. Ye
slaves of avarice, begone ! Seek some barbarous land,
and never may aught beautiful delight your souls !"

Spenser represents Arion. mounted on his dolphin,
accompanying the train of Neptune and Amphitrite:

"Then was there heard a most celestial sound
Of dainty music which did next ensue,
And, on the floating waters as enthroned,
Arion with his harp unto him drew
The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew;
Even when as yet the dolphin which him bore
Through the ^gean Seas from pirates' view,
Stood still, by him astonished at his lore,
And all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar."

Byron, in his "Childe Harold," Canto H., alludes to
the story of Arion, when, describing his voyage, he
represents one of the seamen making music to entertain
the rest:

"The moon is up; by Heaven a. lovely eve!
Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;
Now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe;
Such be our fate when we return to land !
Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand
Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love;
A circle there of merry listeners stand.
Or to some well-known measure featly move
Thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove."

IBYCUS

In order to understand the story of Ibycus which
follows it is necessary to remember, first, that the
theatres of the ancients were immense fabrics capable
of containing from ten to thirty thousand spectators
and as they were used only on festival occasions, an '
admission was free to all, they were usually filled.
They were without roofs and open to the sky, and the
performances were in the daytime. Secondly, the ap-
palling representation of the Furies is not exaggerated

IBYCUS 199

in the story. It is recorded that ^schylus, the tragic
poet, having on one occasion represented the Furies in
a chorus of fifty performers, the terror of the specta-
tors was such that many fainted and were thrown into
convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like repre-
sentation for the future.

Ibycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot /
races and musical competitions held at the Isthmus of'i
Corinth, which attracted all of Grecian lineage. A-p ollo J
had_b estowed on him the gift ol ^ong^he lioneye^Jips
of_the~poet, and ne pursued his way with lightsome step,
full oFTRe god. Already the towers of Corinth crown-
ing the height appeared in view, and he had entered
with pious awe the sacred grove of Neptune. No living
object was in sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead
taking the same course as himself in their migration to
a southern clime. "Good luck to you, ye friendly squad-
rons," he exclaimed, "my companions from across the
sea. I take your company for a good omen. We come
from far and fly in search of hospitality. May both
of us meet that kind reception which shields the stranger
guest from harm !"

He paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of
the wood. There suddenly, at a narrow pass, two rob-
bers stepped forth and barred his way. He must yield
or fight. But his hand, accustomed to the lyre, and
not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. He called
for help on men and gods, but his cry reached no de-
fender's ear. "Then here must I die," said he, "in a
strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of out-
laws, and see none to avenge my cause." Sore wounded,
he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes
overhead. "Take up my cause, ye cranes," he said, "since
no voice but yours answers to my cry." So saying he
closed his eyes in death.

The body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and
though disfigured with wounds, was recognized by the
friend in Corinth who had expected him as a guest.
"Is it thus I find you restored to me?" he exclaimed.
"I who hoped to entwine your temples wiih the wreath
of triumph in the strife of song!"

200 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings
with dismay. All Greece felt the wound, every heart
owned its loss. They crowded round the tribunal of
the magistrates, and demanded vengeance on the mur-
derers and expiation with their blood.

But what trace or mark shall point out the perpe-
trator from amidst the vast multitude attracted by the
splendor of the feast? Did he fall by the hands of
robbers or did some private enemy slay him? The all-
discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld
it. Yet not improbably the murderer even now walks
in the midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his
crime, while vengeance seeks for him in vain. Perhaps
in their own temple's enclosure he defies the gods,
mingling freely in this throng of men that now presses
into the amphitheatre.

For now crowded together, row on row, the multi-
tude fill the seats till it seems ds if the very fabric would
give way. The murmur of voices sounds like the roar
of the sea, while the circles widening in their ascent rise
tier on tier, as if they would reach the sky.

And now the vast assemblage listens to the awful
voice of the chorus personating the Furies, which in
solemn guise advances with measured step, and moves
around the circuit of the theatre. Can they be mortal
women who compose that awful group, and can that
vast concourse of silent forms be living beings?

The choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless
hands torches blazing with a pitchy flame. Their cheeks
were bloodless, and in place of hair writhing and swell-
ing serpents curled around their brows. Forming a
circle, these awful beings sang their /nymns, rending the
hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their faculties.
It rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the in-
struments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart,
curdling the blood.

"Happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt
and crime ! Him we avengers touch not ; he treads the
path of life secure from us. But woe ! woe ! to him
who has done the deed of secret murder. We the fear-
ful family of Night fasten ourselves upon his whole

SIMONIDES 201

being. Thinks he by flight to escape us? We fly still
faster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet, and
bring him to the ground. Unwearied we pursue ; no
pity checks our course ; still on and on, to the end of
life, we give him no peace nor rest." Thus the Eume-
nides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness
like the stillness of death sat over the v/hole assembly
as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then
in solemn march completing the circuit of the theatre,
they passed out at the back of the stage.

Every heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and
every breast panted with undefined terror, quailing be-
fore the awful power that watches secret crimes and
winds unseen the skein of destiny. At that moment a
cry burst forth from one of the uppermost benches
"Look ! look ! comrade, yonder are the cranes of
Ibycus !" And suddenly there appeared sailing across
the sky a dark object which a moment's inspection
showed to be a flock of cranes flying directly over the
theatre. "Of Ibycus! did he say?" The beloved name
revived the sorrow in every breast. As wave follows
wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth
to mouth the words, "Of Ibycus ! him whom we all la-
ment, whom some murderer's hand laid low ! What
have the cranes to do with him ?" And louder grew the
swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the thought
sped through every heart, "Observe the power of the
EumenidesJ__ The pious po etshall he av^n g^ d! the mur-
derer has mformed against himself. Seize the man who
uttered that cry and the other to whom he spoke!"

The culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but
it was too late. The faces of the murderers, pale with
terror, betrayed their guilt. The people took them be-
fore the judge, they confessed their crime, and suffered
the punishment they deserved.

SIMONIDES

Simonides was one of the most prolific of the early
poets of Greece, but only a few fragments of his com-
positions have descended to us. He wrote hymns, tri-

202 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

umphal odes, and elegies. In the last species of com-
position he particularly excelled. His genius was
inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with truer
effect the chords of human sympathy. The "Lamenta-
tion of Danae," the most important of the fragments
which remain of his poetry, is based upon the tradition
that Danae and her infant son were confined by order
of her father, Acrisius, in a chest and set adrift on the
sea. The chest floated towards the island of Seriphus,
where both were rescued by Dictys, a fisherman, and
carried to Polydectes, king of the country, who received
and protected them. The child, Perseus, when grown up
became a famous hero, whose adventures have been re-
corded in a previous chapter.

Simonides passed much of his life at the courts of
princes, and often employed his talents in panegyric and
festal odes, receiving his reward from the munificence
of those whose exploits he celebrated. This employment
was not derogatory, but closely resembles that of the
earliest bards, such as Demodocus, described by Homer,
or of Homer himself, as recorded by tradition.

On one occasion, when residing at the court of Scopas,
king of Thessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a
poem in celebration of his exploits, to be recited at a
banquet. In order to diversify his theme, Simonides,
who was celebrated for his piety, introduced into his
poem the exploits of Castor and Pollux. Such digres-
sions were not unusual with the poets on similar oc-
casions, and one might suppose an ordinary mortal
might have been content to share the praises of the
sons of Leda. But vanity is exacting; and as Scopas
sat at his festal board among his courtiers and syco-
phants, he grudged every verse tha|/did not rehearse his
own praises. When Simonides approached to receive
the promised reward Scopas bestowed but half the ex-
pected sum, saying, "Here is payment for my portion
of thy performance ; Castor and Pollux will doubtless
compensate thee for so much as relates to them." The
disconcerted poet returned to his seat amidst the laugh-
ter which followed the great man's jest. In a little
time he received a message that two young men on

SAPPHO 203

horseback were waiting without and anxious to see him.
Simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for
the visitors. Scarcely, however, had he left the banquet-
ing hall when the roof fell in with a loud crash, bury-
ing Scopas and all his guests beneath the ruins. On
inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who
had sent for him, Simonides was satisfied that they were
v other than Castor and Pollux themselves.

SAPPHO

Sappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early
age of Greek literature. Of her works few fragments
remain, but they are enough to establish her claim to
eminent poetical genius. The story of Sappho com-
monly alluded to is that she was passionately in love
with a beautiful youth named Phaon, and failing to
obtain a return of affection she threw herself from the
promontory of Leucadia into the sea, under a supersti-
tion that those who should take that "Lover's-leap"
would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love.

Byron alludes to the story of Sappho in "Childe
Harold," Canto II. :

"Childe Harold sailed and passed the barren spot
Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave,
And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot,
The lover's refuge and the Lesbian's grave.
Dark Sappho! could not verse in mortal save
That breast imbued with such immortal fire?

" 'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve
Childe Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;" etc.

Those who wish to know more of Sappho and her
"leap" are referred to the "Spectator," Nos. 223 and
229. See also Moore's "Evenings in Greece."

204 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER XXVI

ENDYMION ORION AURORA AND TITHONUS ACIS AND

GALATEA

DIANA AND ENDYMION

Endymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock
on Mount Latmos. One calm, clear night Diana, the
moon, looked down and saw him sleeping. The cold
heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his sur-
passing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him,
and watched over him while he slept.

Another story was that Jupiter bestowed on hrm the
gift of perpetual youth united with perpetual sleep. Of
one so gifted we can have but few adventures to re-
cord. Diana, it was said, took care that his fortunes
should not suffer by his inactive life, for she made his
flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from
the wild beasts.

The story of Endymion has a peculiar charm from
the human meaning which it so thinly veils. We see
in Endymion the young poet, his fancy and his heart
seeking in vain for that which can satisfy them, finding
his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and nursing
there beneath the beams of the bright and silent wit-
ness the melancholy and the ardor which consumes him.
The story suggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent
more in dreams than in reality, and an early and wel-
come death. S. G. B. /

The "Endymion" of Keats is a wild and fanciful
poem, containing some exquisite poetry, as this, to the
moon :

". . . The sleeping kine
Couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine.
Innumerable mountains rise, and rise,
Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes,

ORION 205

And yet thy benediction passeth not
One obscure hiding-place, one little spot
Where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren
Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken;" etc., etc

Dr. Young, in the "Night Thoughts," alludes to
Endymion thus :

". . . These thoughts, O night, are thine; '

From thee they came like lovers' secret sighs,
While others slept. So Cynthia, poets feign,
In shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere,
Her shepherd cheered, of her enamoured less
Than I of thee."

Fletcher, in the "Faithful Shepherdess," tells :

"How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove,
First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes
She took eternal fire that never dies;
How she conveyed him softly in a sleep.
His temples bound with poppy, to the steep
Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night,
Gilding the mountain with her brother's light,
To kiss her sweetest."

ORION

Orion was the son of Neptune. He was a handsome
giant and a mighty hunter. His father gave him the
power of wading through the depths of the sea, or, as
others say, of walking on its surface.

Orion loved Merope, the daughter of (Enopion, king
of Chios, and sought her in marriage. He cleared the
island of wild beasts, and brought the spoils of the chase
as presents to his beloved; but as CEnopion constantly
deferred bis consent, Orion attempted to gain possession
of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at
this conduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him
of his sight and cast him out on the seashore. The
blinded hero followed the sound of a Cyclops' hammer
till he reached Lemnos, and came to the forge of Vul-
can, who, taking pity on him, gave him Kedalion, one
of his men, to be his guide to the abode of the sun.

206 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Placing Kedalion on his shoulders, Orion proceeded to
the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored
to sight by his beam.

After this he dwelt as a hunter with Diana, with
whom he was a favorite, and it is even said she was
about to marry him. Her brother was highly displeased
and often chid her, but to no purpose. One day, ob-
serving Orion wading through the sea with his head
just above the water, Apollo-pointed it out to his sister
and maintained that she could not hit that black thing
on the sea. The archer-goddess discharged a shaft with
fatal aim. The waves rolled the dead body of Orion
to the land, and bewailing her fatal error with many
tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where he ap-
pears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and
club. Sirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads fly
before him.

The Pleiads were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of
Diana's train. One day Orion saw them and became
enamoured and pursued them. In their distress they
prayed to the gods to change their form, and Jupiter
in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them
a constellation in the sky. Though their number was
seven, only six stars are visible, for Electra, one of
them, it is said left her place that she might not behold
the ruin of Troy, for that city was founded by her son
Dardanus. The sight had such an effect on her sisters
that they have looked pale ever since.

Mr. Longfellow has a poem on the "Occultation of
Orion." The following lines are those in which he
alludes to the mythic story. We must premise that on
the celestial globe Orion is represented as robed in a
lion's skin and wielding a club. At the moment the stars
of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the
light of the moon, the poet tells us

"Down fell the red skin of the lion
Into the river at his feet.
His mighty club no longer beat
The forehead of the bull ; but he
Reeled as of yore beside the sea,

AURORA AND TITHONUS 207

When blinded by CEnopion

He sought the blacksmith at his forge,
And climbing up the narrow gorge,

Fixed his blank eyes upon the sun."

Tennyson has a different theory of the Pleiads :

"Many a night I saw the Plefads, rising through the mellow-
shade,
Glitter like a swarm of fire- flies tangled in a silver braid."

Locksley Hall.

Byron alludes to the lost Pleiad :

"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below."

See also Mrs. Hemans's verses on the same subject.

AURORA AND TITHONUS

The goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon.
was at times inspired with the love of mortals. Her
greatest favorite was Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king
of Troy. She stole him away, and prevailed on Jupi-
ter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to have
youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to
discern, to her great mortification, that he was growing
old. When his hair was quite white she left his soci-
ety; but he still had the range of her palace, lived on
ambrosial food, and was clad in celestial raiment. At
length he lost the power of using his limbs, and then
she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice
might at tirnes be heard. Finally she turned him into
a grasshopper.

Memnon was the son of Aurora and Tithonus. He
was king of the Ethiopians, and dwelt in the extreme
east, on the shore of Ocean. He came with his war-
riors to assist the kindred of his father in the war of
Troy. King Priam received him with great honors,
and listened with admiration to his narrative of the
wonders of the ocean shore.

The very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient
of repose, led his troops to the field. Antilochus, the

208 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Drave son of Nestor, fell by his hand, and the Greeks
were put to flight, when Achilles appeared and restored
the battle. A long and doubtful contest ensued between
him and the son of Aurora; at length victory declared
for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the Trojans fled in
dismay.

Aurora, who from her station in the sky had viewed
with apprehension the danger of her son, when she
saw him fall, directed his brothers, the Winds, to con-
vey his body to the banks of the river Esepus in Paph-
lagonia. In the evening Aurora came, accompanied
by the Hours and the Pleiads, and wept and lamented
over her son. Night, in sympathy with her grief,
spread the heaven with clouds ; all nature mourned for
the offspring of the Dawn. The Ethiopians raised his
tomb on the banks of the stream in the grove of the
Nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of
his funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing
into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell into
the flame. Every year at the anniversary of his death
they return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner.
Aurora remains inconsolable for the loss of her son.
Her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning
in the form of dew-drops on the grass.

Unlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology,
there still exist some memorials of this. On the banks
of the river Nile, in Egypt, are two colossal statues,
one of which is said to be the statue of Memnon. An-
cient writers record that when the first rays' of the
rising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue
from it, which they compare to the s;3^apping of a harp-
string. There is some doubt about the identification of
the existing statue with the one described by the an-
cients, and the mysterious sounds are still more doubtful.
Yet there are not wanting some modern testimonies to
their being still audible. It has been suggested that
sounds produced by confined air making its escape from
crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some
ground for the story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a late
traveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue

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ACIS AND GALATEA 209

itself, and discovered that it was hollow, and that "in
the lap of the statue is a stone, which on being struck
emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use of
to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its
powers."

The vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject
of allusion with the poets. Darwin, in his "Botanic Gar-
den," says :

"So to the sacred Sun in Memnon's fane
Spontaneous concords choired the matin strain;
Touched by his orient beam responsive rings
The hving lyre and vibrates all its strings;
Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong,
And holy echoes swell the adoring song."

Book I., 1., 182.

ACIS AND GALATEA

Scylla was a fair virgin of Sicily, a favorite of the
Sea-Nymphs. She had many suitors, but repelled them
all, and would go to the grotto of Galatea, and tell her
how she was persecuted. One day the goddess, while
Scylla dressed her hair, listened to the story, and then
replied, "Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not
ungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel ;
but I, the daughter of Nereus, and protected by such
a band of sisters, found no escape from the passion of
the Cyclops but in the depths of the sea ;" and tears
stopped her utterance, which when the pitying maiden
had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed
the goddess, "Tell me, dearest," said she, "the cause of
your grief." Galatea then said, "Acis was the son of
Faunus and a Naiad. His father and mother loved him
dearly, but their love was not equal to mine. For the
beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and he
was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to
darken his cheeks. As much as I sought his society, so
much did the Cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me
whether my love for Acis or my hatred of Polyphemus
was the stronger, I cannot tell you ; they were in equal
measure. O Venus, how great is thy power! this fierce
giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger

210 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

escaped unharmed, who defied even Jove himself, learned
to feel what love was, and, touched with a passion for
me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored caverns. The i
for the first time he began to take some care of hi.^
appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he
harrowed those coarse locks of his with a comb, anr]
mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh fea-
tures in the water, and composed his countenance. His
love of slaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood pre-
vailed no more, and ships that touched at his islan '
went away in safety. He paced up and down the se i
shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and,
when weary, lay tranquilly in his cave.

"There is a cliff which projects into the sea, which
washes it on either side. Thither one day the huge
Cyclops ascended, and sat down while his flocks spread
themselves around. Laying down his staff, which would
have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail, and tak-
ing his instrument compacted of numerous pipes, he
made the hills and the waters echo the music of his
song. I lay hid under a rock by the side of my beloved
Acis, and listened to the distant strain. It was full
of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled with pas-
sionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty.

"When he had finished he rose up, and, like a raging
bull that cannot stand still, wandered off into the woods.
Acis and I thought no more of him, till on a sudden
he came to a spot which gave him a view of us as we
sat. T see you,' he exclaimed, 'and I will make this the
last of your love-meetings.' His voice was a roar such
as an angry Cyclops alone could utter, .^tna trembled
at the sound. I, overcome with terrot/, plunged into the
water. Acis turned and fled, crying,' 'Save me, Galatea,
save me, my parents !' The Cyclops pursued him, and
tearing a rock from the side of the mountain hurled it
at him. Though only a corner of it touched him, it
overwhelmed him.

"All that fate left in my power I did for Acis. i
endowed him with the honors of his grandfather, the
river-god. The purple blood flowed out from under
the rock, but by degrees grew paler and looked like the

THE TROJAN WAR 211

stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in time
it became clear. The rock cleaved open, and the
vv^ater, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing
murmur."

Thus Acis was changed into a river, and the river
retains the name of Acis.

Dryden, in his "Cymon and Iphigenia," has told the
story of a clown converted into a gentleman by the
power of love, in a way that shows traces of kindred to
the old story of Galatea and the Cyclops.

"What not his father's care nor tutor's art
Could plant with pains in his unpolished heart,
The best instructor, Love, at once inspired,
As barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired.
Love taug-ht him shame, and shame with love at strife
Soon taught the sweet civiHties of life."

CHAPTER XXVn

THE TROJAN WAR

Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one
occasion she did a very foolish thing; she entered into
competition with Juno and Venus for the prize of
beauty. It happened thus : At the nuptials of Peleus
and Thetis all the gods were invited with the excep-
tion of Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion,
the goddess threw a golden apple among the guests,
with the inscription, "For the fairest." Thereupon
Juno, Venus, and Minerva each claimed the apple.
Jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter,
sent the goddesses to Mount Ida, where the beautiful
shepherd Paris was tending his flocks, and to him was
committed the decision. The goddesses accordingly ap-
peared before him. Juno promised him power and
riches, Minerva glory and renown in war, and Venus
the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to
bias his decision in her own favor. Paris decided ii'

212 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

favor of Venus and gave her the golden apple, thus
making the two other goddesses his enemies. Under
the protection of Venus, Paris sailed to Greece, and
was hospitably received by Menelaus, king of Sparta.
Now Helen, the wife of Menelaus, was the very wom-
an whom Venus had destined for Paris, the fairest
of her sex. She had been sought as a bride by numer-
ous suitors, and before her decision was made known,
they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their num-
ber, took an oath that they would defend her from all
injury and avenge her cause if necessary. She chose
Menelaus, and was living with him happily when Paris
became their guest. Paris, aided by Venus, persuaded
her to elope with him, and carried her to Troy, whence
arose the famous Trojan war, the theme of the greatest
poems of antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil.

Menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of Greece
to fulfil their pledge, and join him in his efforts to
recover his wife. They generally came forward, but
Ulysses, who had married Penelope, and was very happy
in his wife and child, had no disposition to embark
in such a troublesome affair. He therefore hung back
and Palamedes was sent to urge him. When Palamedes
arrived at Ithaca Ulysses pretended to be mad. He
yoked an ass and an ox together to the plough and
began to sow salt. Palamedes, to try him, placed the
infant Telemachus before the plough, whereupon the
father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he
was no madman, and after that could no longer refuse
to fulfil his promise. Being now himself gained for the
imdertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant
chiefs, especially Achilles. This her)2^ wae the son of
that Thetis at whose marriage the apple of Discord had
been thrown among the goddesses. Thetis was herself
one of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that
her son was fated to perish before Troy if he went on
the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going.
She sent him away to the court of King Lycomedes, and
induced him to conceal himself in the disguise of a
maiden among the daughters of the king. Ulysses, hear-
ing he was there, went disguised as a merchant to the

THE TROJAN WAR 213

palace and offered for sale female ornaments, among
which he had placed some arms. While the king's
daughters were engrossed with the other contents of
the merchant's pack, Achilles handled the weapons and
thereby betrayed himself to the keen eye of Ulysses, who
found no great difficulty in persuading him to disre-
gard his mother's prudent counsels and join his coun-
trymen in the war.

Priam was king of Troy, and Paris, the shepherd
J'.nd seducer of Helen, was his son. Paris had been
brought up in obscurity, because there were certain
ominous forebodings connected with him from his in-
fancy that he would be the ruin of the state. These
forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for
the Grecian armament now in preparation was the
greatest that had ever been fitted out. Agamemnon,
king of Mycenae, and brother of the injured Menelaus,
was chosen commander-in-chief. Achilles was their
most illustrious warrior. After him ranked Ajax, gi-
gantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intel-
lect ; Diomede, second only to Achilles in all the qualities
of a hero; Ulysses, famous for his sagacity; and Nestor,
the oldest of the Grecian chiefs, and one to whom they
all looked up for counsel. But Troy was no feeble
enemy. Priam, the king, was now old, but he had been
a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good
government at home and numerous alliances with his
neighbors. But the principal stay and support of his
throne was his son Plector, one of the noblest charac-
ters painted by heathen antiquity. He felt, from the
first, a presentiment of the fall of his country, but still
persevered in his heroic resistance, yet by no means
justified the wrong which brought this danger upon her.
He was united in marriage with Andromache, and as
a husband and father his character was not less ad-
mirable than as a warrior. The ])rincipal leaders on the
side of the Trojans, besides Hector, were -^neas and
Deiphobus, Glaucus and Sarpedon.

After two years of preparation the Greek fleet and
army assembled in the port of Aulis in Bocotia. Here
Agamemnon in hunting killed a stag which was sacred

\

214 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

to Diana, and the goddess in return visited the army
with pestilence, and produced a calm which prevented
the ships from leaving the port. Calchas, the sooth-
sayer, thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin
goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a
virgin on her altar, and that none other but the daughter
of the offender would be acceptable. Agamemnon, how-
ever reluctant, yielded his consent, and the maiden
Iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she was
to be married to Achilles. When she was about to
be sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her
away, leaving a hind in her place, and Iphigenia, en-
veloped in a cloud, was carried to Tauris, where Diana
made her priestess of her temple.

Tennyson, in his "Dream of Fair Women," makes
Iphigenia thus describe her feelings at the moment of
sacrifice :

"I was cut ofif from hope in that sad place,

Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears;
My father held his hand upon his face;
I, blinded by my tears,

"Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs,
As in a dream. Dimly I could descry
The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes,
Waiting to see me die.

"The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat,

The temples and the people and the shore;
One drew a sharp knife through, my tender throat
Slowly, and nothing more."

The wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and
brought the forces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans
came to oppose their landing, and at ;rtie first onset Pro-
;;esilaus fell by the hand of Hector. Protesilaus had
left at home his wife, Laodamia, who was most ten-
derly attached to him. When the news of his death
reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to con-
verse with him only three hours. The request was
granted. Mercury led Protesilaus back to the upper
world, and when he died a second time Laodamia died
with him. There was a story that the nymphs planted

"THE ILIAD" 215

elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they
were high enough to command a view of Troy, and
then withered away, while fresh branches sprang from
the roots.

Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and
Laodamia for the subject of a poem. It seems the
oracle had declared that victory should be the lot of
that party from which should fall the first victim to
the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on his brief
return to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of
his fate :

" 'The wished-for wind was given ; I then revolved

The oracle, upon the silent sea;
And if no worthier led the way, resolved

That of a thousand vessels mine should be
The foremost prow impressing to the strand,
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.

" 'Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter vi^as the pang
When of thy loss I thought, beloveJ wife!

On thee too fondly did my memory hang.
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,

The oaths which we had trod, these fountains, flowers;

My new planned cities and unfinished towers.

" 'But should suspense permit the foe to cry,
"Behold they tremble ! haughty their array.
Yet of their number no one dares to die?"

In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurred : but lofty thought
. In act embodied my deliverance wrought.'

". . . upon the side

Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew

From out the tomb of him for whom she died;

And ever when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits withered at the sight,
A constant interchange of growth and blight!"

"the iliad"

The war continued without decisive results for nine
years. Then an event occurred which seemed likely to
be fatal to the cause of the Greeks, and that was a

216 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. It is at this
point that the great poem of Homer, "The Iliad," be-
gins. The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy,
had taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the
division of the spoil a female captive, by name Chry-
seis, daughter of Chryses, priest _Q i Apollo , had fallen
to the share of Agamemnori"! Chryses came bearing the
sacred emblems of his office, and begged the release of
his daughter. Agamemnon refused. Thereupon Chry-
ses implored ApolloL to afflict the Greeks till they should
be forced to yielH^eir prey. AeoUq granted the prayer
of his priest, and sent pestilence into the Grecian camp.
Then a council was called to deliberate how to allay the
wrath of the gods and avert the 'plague. Achilles boldly
charged their misfortunes upon Agamemnon as caused
by his withholding Chryseis. Agamemnon, enraged,
consented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that
Achilles should yield to him in her stead Briseis, a
maiden who had fallen to Achilles' share in the division
of the spoil. Achilles submitted, but forthwith declared
that he would take no further part in the war. He
withdrew his forces from the general camp and openly
avowed his intention of returning home to Greece.

Xiie_goils_andgoddesses interested themselves as much
Jntbjs famous~"war~a s the part Tes~the mselve &: 4t-^vvas a
well known to them^^hat fate had decreed that Troy /
should fall, at last, if her enemies should persevere and /
not voluntarily abandon the enterprise. Yet there was
room enough left for chance to excite by turns the hopes I
and fears of the powers above who took part with \
either side. Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the^
slight put upon their charms by Paris,/ were hostile to
the Trojans; Venus for the opposit^ cause favored
them. Venus enlisted her admirer Mars on the same
side, but Neptune favored the Greeks. ,Aollo__was
neutral , somet imes taking one^de, sometimes the other,
anH Jove himself, tholjgHTie lovedTthe^gooTi'King PriamT
yet exercised a degree of impartiality; not, however,
without exceptions.

Thetis, the mother of Achilles, warmly resented the
injury done to her son. She repaired immediately to

"THE ILIAD" 217

Jove's palace and besought him to make the Greeks re-
pent of their injustice to Achilles by granting success
to the Trojan arms. Jupiter consented, and in the bat-
tle which ensued the Trojans were completely success-
ful. The Greeks were driven from the field and took
refuge in their ships.

Then Agamemnon called a council of his wisest and
bravest chiefs. Nestor advised that an embassy should
be sent to Achilles to persuade him to return to the
field; that Agamemnon should yield the maiden, the
cause of tiie dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the
wrong he had done. Agamemnon consented, and
Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix were sent to carry to
Achilles the penitent message. They performed that
duty, but Achilles was deaf to their entreaties. He
positively refused to return to the field, and persisted
in his resolution to embark for Greece without delay.

The Greeks had constructed a rampart around their
ships, and now instead of besieging Troy they were in
a manner besieged themselves, within their rampart.
The next day after the unsuccessful embassy to Achil-
les, a battle was fought, and the Trojans, favored by
Jove, were successful, and succeeded in forcing a pas-
sage through the Grecian rampart, and were about to
set fire to the ships. Neptune, seeing the Greeks so
pressed, came to their rescue. He appeared in the form
of Calchas the prophet, encouraj. ed the warriors with
his shouts, and appealed to each individually till he
raised their ardor to such a pitch that they forced the
Trojans to give way. Ajax performed prodigies of
valor, and at length encountered Hector. Ajax shouted
defiance, to which Hector replied, and hurled his lance
at the huge warrior. It was well aimed and struck
Ajax, where the belts that bore his sword and shield
crossed each other on the breast. The double guard
prevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. Then
Ajax, seizing a huge stone, one of those that served to
prop the ships, hurled it at Hector. It struck him in
the neck and stretched him on the plain. His followers
instantly seized him and bore him off, stunned and
wounded.

213 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

While Neptune was thus aiding the Greeks and driv-
ing back the Trojans, Jupiter saw nothing of what was
going on, for his attention had been drawn from the
field by the wiles of Juno. That goddess had arrayed
herself in all her charms, and to crown all had bor-
rowed of Venus her girdle, called "Cestus," which had
the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a de-
gree that they were quite irresistible. So prepared, Juno
went to join her husband, who sat on Olympus watch-
ing the battle. When he beheld her she looked so charm-
ing that the fondness of his early love revived, and,
forgetting the contending armies and all other affairs of
state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as
it would.

But this absorption did not continue long, and when,
upon turning his eyes downward, he beheld Hector
stretched on the plain almost lifeless from pain and
bruises, he dismissed Juno in a rage, commanding her
to send Iris and Apollo to him. When Iris came he
N^_ sent her with a stern message to Neptune, ordering him
^ instantly to quit the field. Apdlo 3^.^sdespatchedjo_.

heal-iiector's bruise.a,jind-iQ. ins pifirJur^ art. These
orders were obeyed with such speed that, white'^the bat-
tle still raged, Hector returned to the field and Neptune
betook himself to his own dominions.

An arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machaon, son
of ^sculapius, who inherited his father's art of heal-
ing, and was therefore of great value to the Greeks as
their surgeon, besides being one of their bravest war-
riors. Nestor took Machaon in his chariot and conveyed
him from the field. As they passed the ships of Achil-
les, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot
of Nestor and recognized the old chi^f, but could not
discern who the wounded chief was. So calling Patro-
clus, his companion and dearest friend, he sent him to
Nestor's tent to inquire.

Patroclus, arriving at Nestor's tent, saw Machaon
wounded, and having told the cause of his coming would
have hastened away, but Nestor detained him, to tell
him the extent of the Grecian calamities. He reminded
him also how, at the time of departing for Troy, Achilles

"THE ILIAD" 219

and himself had been charged by their respective fathers
with different advice : Achilles to aspire to the highest
pitch of glory, Patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch
over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "Now,"
said Nestor, "is the time for such influence. If the
gods so please, thou mayest win him back to the com
mon cause ; but if not let him at least send his soldiers
to the field, and come thou, Patroclus, clad in his armor,
and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the
irojans.

Patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and
hastened back to Achilles, revolving in his mind all he
had seen and heard. He told the prince the sad con-
dition of affairs at the camp of their late associates :
Diomede, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Machaon, all wounded,
the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships
preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means
of return to Greece. While they spoke the flames burst
forth from one of the ships. Achilles, at the sight, re-
lented so far as to grant Patroclus his request to lead
the Myrmidons (for so were Achilles' soldiers called)
to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he might
thereby strike more terror into the minds of the Tro-
jans. Without delay the soldiers were marshalled,
Patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the
chariot of Achilles, and led forth the men ardent fo:
battle. But before he went, Achilles strictly charged
him that he should be content with repelling the foe.
"Seek not," said he, "to press the Trojans without me,
lest thou add still more to the disgrace already mine."
Then exhorting the troops to do their best he dismissed
them full of ardor to the fight.

Patroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged <'ito
the contest where it raged hottest ; at the sight of which
the joyful Grecians shouted and the ships reechoed the
acclaim. The Trojans, at the sight of the well-known
armor, struck with terror, looked everywhere for refuge.
First those who had got possession of the ship and set
it on fire left and allowed the Grecians to retake it and
extinguish the flames. Then the rest of the Trojans fled
in dismay. Ajax, Menelaus, and the two sons of Nestor

J?20 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

performed prodigies of valor. Hector was forced to
turn his horses' heads and retire from the enclosure,
leaving his men entangled in the fosse to escape as they
could. Patroclus drove them before him, slaying many,
none daring to make a stand against him.

At last Sarpedon, son of Jove, ventured to oppose
himself in fight to Patroclus. Jupiter looked down upon
him and would have snatched him from the fate which
awaited him, but Juno hinted that if he did so it would
induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to inter-
pose in like manner whenever any of their offspring
were endangered; to which reason Jove yielded. Sarpe-
don threw his spear, but missed Patroclus, but Patroclus
threw his with better success. It pierced Sarpedon's
breast and he fell, and, calling to his friends to save
his body from the foe, expired. Then a furious con-
test arose for the possession of the corpse. The Greeks
succeeded and stripped Sarpedon of his armor ; but Jove
would not allow the remains of his son to be dishonored,
and by his command Apollo snatched from the midst of
the combatants the body of Sarpedon and committed it
to the care of the twin brothers Death and Sleep, by
whom it was transported to Lycia, the native land of
Sarpedon, where it received due funeral rites.

Thus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish
in repelling the Trojans and relieving his countrymen,
but now came a change of fortune. Hector, borne in
his chariot, confronted him. Patroclus threw a vast
stone at Hector, which missed its aim, but smote Ce-
briones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the
car. Hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his
friend, and Patroclus also descended, to complete his
victory. Thus the two heroes met /face to face. At
this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give
Hector the glory, records that Phoebus took part against
Patroclus. He struck the helmet from his head and the
lance from his hand. At the same moment an obscure
Trojan wounded him in the back, and Hector, press-
ing forward, pierced him with his spear. He fell mor-
tally wounded.

Then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of

1

"THE ILIAD" 221

Patroclus, but his armor was at once taken possession
of by Hector, who retiring- a short distance divested
himself of his own armor and put on that of Achilles,
then returned to the fight. Ajax and Menelaus de-
iended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors
struggled to capture it. The battle raged with equal
fortunes, when Jove enveloped the whole face of heaven
with a dark cloud. The lightning flashed, the thunder
roared, and Ajax, looking round for some one whom
he might despatch to Achilles to tell him of the death
of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his re-
mains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could
see no suitable messenger. It was then that he ex-
claimed in those famous lines so often quoted,

"Father of heaven and earth ! deliver thou
Achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies;
Give day ; and, since thy sovereign will is such,
Destruction with it; but, O, give us day."

Cowper.

Or, as rendered by Pope,

". . . Lord of earth and air!
O king! O father! hear my humble prayer!
Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore;
Give me to see and Ajax asks no more;
If Greece must perish we thy will obey,
But let us perish in the face of day."

Jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds.
Then Ajax sent Antilochus to Achilles with the intelli-
gence of Patroclus's death, and of the conflict raging
for his remains. The Greeks at last succeeded in bear-
ing ofl:" the body to the ships, closely pursued by Hector
and ^neas and the rest of the Trojans.

Achilles heard the fate of his friend with such dis-
tress that Antilochus feared for a while that he would
destroy himself. His groans reached the ears of his
mother, Thetis, far down in the deeps of ocean where
she abode, and she hastened to him to inquire the cause.
She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that
he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his
friend to fall a victim to it. But his only consolation

222 ; STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

was the hope of revenge. He would fly instaritly in
search of Hector. But his mother reminded him that
he was now without armor, and promised him, if he
would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for
him a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal tc
that he had lost. He consented, and Thetis immediately
repaired to Vulcan's palace. She found him busy a(
his forge making tripods for his own use, so artfull}'
constructed that they moved forward of their own ac-
cord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed.
On hearing the request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately
laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her
wishes. He fabricated a splendid suit of armor for
Achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate devices,
then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and
greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted
to his form, and of consummate workmanship. It was
all done in one night, and Thetis, receiving it, descended
with it to earth, and laid it down at Acliilles' feet at the
dawn of day.

The first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since
the death of Patroclus was at the sight of this splendid
armor. And now, arrayed in it, he went forth into the
camp, calling all the chiefs to council. When they were
all assembled he addressed them. Renouncing his dis-
pleasure against Agamemnon and bitterly lamenting the
miseries that had resulted from it, he called on them to
proceed at once to the field. Agamemnon made a suit-
able reply, laying all the blame on Ate, the goddess of
discord; and thereupon complete reconcilement took
place between the heroes.

Then Achilles went forth to battle inspired with a
rage and thirst for vengeance that mgxie him irresistible.
The bravest warriors fled before him or fell by his
2ance. .Hector, cautioned by Apollo, kept aloof; but
Jhe ^o^"~a?suiriTng_the_f5rflr^5f~one of Priam's sons7~

IS to encounter the terrible waf-^

r-UQr^ .^neas, though he felt himself unequal, did not

decline the combat. He hurled his spear with all his

force against the shield the work of Vulcan. It was

yormed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two

"THE ILIAD" (223;

of tin, and one of gold. The spear pierced two thick-
nesses, but was stopped in the third. Achilles threw his
with better success. It pierced through the shield of
^neas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no
wound. Then ^neas seized a stone, such as two men
of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to
throw it, and Achilles, with sword drawn, was about
to rush upon him, when Neptune, who looked out upon
the contest, moved with pity for ^neas, who he saw
would surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread
a cloud between the combatants, and lifting ^neas from
the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and
steeds to the rear of the battle. Achilles, when the
mist cleared away, looked round in vain for his ad-
versary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his arms
against other champions. But none dared stand before
him, and Priam looking down from the city walls be-
held his whole army in full flight towards the city. He
gave command to open wide the gates to receive the
fugitives, and to shut them as soon as the Trojans
should have passed, lest the enemy should enter like-
wise. But_Ach jlles was so close in pursuit that that
wcaaldjiaiie-6iia impossible ii Apolto^^ha^rrotriTrTlie
iorrasi i Ag enor. Priam's son, encountered Achilles f
a_while,_jthn-_ turned to fly.^and taken the way apaFp

""Trom the._xuty. ...A^hniespu rsued .a nd ha<l chased his
'fe^ pposed victim fa^^j^onT th_j;^ails, when Apol]fi__dis^

Xlose dHT^selt^^jn ^Achillesj g^rceiving how he had beeiL>
dgluHedj gave'up The cjiase ' ^^

But wlieTrth^resFTiad escaped into the town Hector
stood without determined to await the combat. His
old father called to him from the walls and begged him
to retire nor tempt the encounter. His mother, Hecuba,
also besought him to the same effect, but all in vain.
''How can I," said he to himself, "by whose command
the people went to this day's contest, where so many
have fallen, seek safety for myself against a single foe?
But what if I offer him to yield up Helen and all her
treasures and ample of our own beside? Ah, no! it is
too late. He would not even hear me through, but slay
me while I spoke." While he thus ruminated. Achilles

I^^S

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

approached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing light-
ning as he moved. At that sight Hector's heart failed
him and he fled. Achilles swiftly pursued. They ran,
still keeping near the walls, till they had thrice encircled
the city. As often as Hector approached the walls
Achilles intercepted him and forced him to keep out in
a wider circle. But-^^^gollo^siislaine^ Hectof^s strength
and would^gotlet hirn smk in wearines s. Then Pallas,
assttrning'"lhe foTTTp-of Deiphobus^ Hector's bravest
brother, appeared suddenly at his side. Hector saw him
with delight, and thus strengthened stopped his flight
and turned to meet Achilles. Hector threw his spear,
which struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back.
He turned to receive another from the hand of Deipho-
bus, but Deiphobus was gone. Then Hector understood
his doom and said, "Alas! it is plain this is my hour
to die ! I thought Deiphobus at hand, but Pallas de-
ceived me, and he is still in Troy. But I will not fall
inglorious." So saying he drew his falchion from his
side and rushed at once to combat. Achilles, secured
behind his shield, waited the approach of Hector. When
he came within reach of his spear, Achilles choosing
with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves
the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and
Hector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "Spare my
body ! Let my parents ransom it, and let me receive
funeral rites from the sons and daughters of Troy." To
which Achilles replied, "Dog, name not ransom nor pity
to me, on whom you have brought such dire distress.
No ! trust me, naught shall save thy carcass from the
dogs. Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold
were ofifered, I would refuse it all."

So saying he stripped the body oi its armor, and
fastening cords to the feet tied them behind his chariot,
leaving the body to trail along the ground. Then mount-
ing the chariot he lashed the steeds and so dragged the
body to and fro before the city. What words can tell
the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at this
sight ! His people could scarce restrain the old king
from rushing forth. He threw himself in the dust and
besought them each by name to give him way. Hec-

i

THETIS BEARING THE ARMOR OF ACHILLES.
From painting by Francjois Gerard.

HELEN OF TROY.
From painting by Lord I^eighton.

"THE ILIAD"

uba's distress was not less violent. The citizens stood
round them weeping. The sound of the mourning
reached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector,
as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating
evil she went forth to the wall. When she saw the
sight there presented, she would have thrown herself
heafdlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into the
arms of her maidens. Recovering, she bewailed her
fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a
captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the
charity of strangers.

When Achilles and the Greeks had taken their re-
venge on the killer of Patroclus they busied themselves
in paying due funeral rites to their friend. A pile was
erected, and the body burned with due solemnity; and
then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot races,
wrestling, boxing, and archery. Then the chiefs sat
down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to
rest. But Achilles neither partook of the feast nor of
sleep. The recollection of his lost friend kept him
awake, remembering their companionship in toil and
dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. Before the
earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot
his swift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be dragged
behind. Twice he dragged him around the tomb of /y
Patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. 'cV'
But Apollo would not permit the body to be torn or ^\\^
djggOTTfpd witFi al l thi^ ah^^se, but p xfisgrved^ it free 7o m ^^

all taint or defilement.

"White^Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing
brave Hector, Jupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his
presence. He told her to go to her son and prevail on
him to restore the body of Hector to his friends. Then
Jupiter sent Iris to King Priam to encourage him to go
to Achilles and beg the body of his son. Iris delivered
her message, and Priam immediately prepared to obey.
He opened his treasuries and took out rich garments and
cloths, with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods
and a golden cup of matchless workmanship. Then he
called to his sons and bade them draw fortli his litter
and place in it the various articles designed for a ransom

226 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

to Achilles. When all was ready, the old king with a
single companion as aged as himself, the herald Idaeus,
drove forth from the gates, parting there with Hecuba,
his queen, and all his friends, who lamented him as
going to certain death.

But Jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable
king, sent Mercury to be his guide and protector. Mer-
cury, assuming the form of a young warrior, presented
himself to the aged couple, and while at the sight of him
they hesitated whether to fly or yield, the god ap-
proached, and grasping Priam's hand offered to be their
guide to Achilles' tent. Priam gladly accepted his
offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed
the reins and soon conveyed them to the tent of Achilles.
Mercury's wand put to sleep all the guards, and without
hinderance he introduced Priam into the tent where
Achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. The old
king threw himself at the feet of Achilles, and kissed
those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his
sons, -^^hink, O Achilles," he said, "of thy own father,
full of days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge
of life. Perhaps even now some neighbor chief op-
presses him and there is none at hand to succor him in
his distress. Yet doubtless knowing that Achilles lives he
still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face
again. But no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so
late the flower of Ilium, all have fallen. Yet one I had,
one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom,
fighting for his country, thou hast slain. I come to
redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom with me.
Achilles ! reverence the gods ! recollect thy father ! for
his sake show compassion to me !" These words moved
Achilles, and he wept ; remembering by turns his absent
father and his lost friend. Moved with pity of Priam's
silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth,
and thus spake : "Priam, I know that thou hast reached
this place conducted by some god, for without aid divine
no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the
attempt. I grant thy request, moved thereto by the
evident will of Jove." So saying he arose, and went
forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge

THE FALL OF TROY 227

the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the cover-
ing of the body, which they placed on the litter, and
spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it should
be borne back to Troy. Then Achilles dismissed the old
king with his attendants, having first pledged himself to
allow a truce of twelve days for the funeral solemnities.

As the litter approached the city and was descried from
the walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on
the face of their hero. Foremost of all, the mother and
the wife of Hector came, and at the sight of the lifeless
body renewed their lamentations. The people all wept
with them, and to the going down of the sun there was
no pause or abatement of their grief.

The next day preparations were made for the funeral
solemnities. For nine days the people brought wood
and built the pile, and on the tenth they placed the body
on the summit and applied the torch ; while all Troy
thronging forth encompassed the pile. When it had
completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine,
collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn,
which they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of
stones over the spot.

"Such honors Ihum to her hero paid,
And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade."

Pope.

CHAPTER XXVni

THE FALL OF TROY RETURN OF THE GREEKS ORESTES

AND ELECTRA

THE FALL OF TROY

The story of the Iliad ends with the death of Hec-
tor, and it is from the Odyssey and later poems that
we learn the fate of the other heroes. After the death
of Hector, Troy did not immediately fall, but receiv-
ing aid from new allies still continued its resistance.
One of these allies was Memnon, the .Ethiopian prince.

228 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

whose story we have already told. Another was Pen-
thesilea, queen of the Amazons, who came with a band
of female warriors. All the authorities attest their valor
and the fearful effect of their war cry. Penthesilea
slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at last slain
by Achilles. But when the hero bent over his fallen
foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he
bitterly regretted his victory. Thersites, an insolent
brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in
consequence slain by the hero.

Achilles by chance had seen Polyxena, daughter of
King Priam, perhaps on the occasion of the truce which
was allowed the Trojans for the burial of Hector. He
was captivated with her charms, and to win her in mar-
riage agreed to use his influence with the Greeks to
grant peace to Troy. While in the temple of Apollo,
negotiating the marriage, Paris discharged at him a
poisoned arrow, which, guided by Apollo, ^j ^xuia4ed-
Achilles in the heel, tjie oiily vulnerable part about him.
FoFT"h'etis~hTsTTT"other had dipped him when an infant
in the river Styx, which made every part of him invul-
nerable except the heel by which she held him.^

The body of Achilles so treacherously slain was
rescued by Ajax and Ulysses. Thetis directed the
Greeks to bestow her son's armor on the hero who of
all the survivors should be judged most deserving of it.
Ajax and Ulysses were the only claimants; a select
number of the other chiefs were appointed to award
the prize. It was awarded to Ulysses, thus placing wis-
dom before valor; whereupon Ajax slew himself. On
the spot where his blood sank into the earth a flower
sprang up, called the hyacinth, bearing on its leaves the
first two letters of the name of Aja^Jc, Ai, the Greek
for "woe." Thus Ajax is a claimant with the boy
Hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower.
There is a species of Larkspur which represents the
hyacinth of the poets in preserving the memory of this
event, the Delphinium Ajacis Ajax's Larkspur.

^ The story of the invulnerability of Achilles is not found in Homer,
and is inconsistent with his account. For how could Achilles require th
aid of celestial armor if he were invulnerable?

THE FALL OF TROY 229

It was now discovered that Troy could not be taken
but by the aid of the arrows of Hercules. They were
in possession of Philoctetes, the friend who had been
with Hercules at the last and lighted his funeral pyre.
Philoctetes had joined the Grecian expedition against
Troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one
of the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound
proved so offensive that his companions carried him to
the isle of Lemnos and left him there. Diomed was
now sent to induce him to rejoin the army. He suc-
ceeded. Philoctetes was cured of his wound by Ma-
chaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows.
In his distress Paris bethought him of one whom in
his prosperity he had forgotten. This was the nymph
CEnone, whom he had married when a youth, and had
abandoned for the fatal beauty Helen. CEnone, remem-
bering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the
wound, and Paris went back to Troy and died. (Enone
quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies,
but came too late, and in her grief hung herself.^

There was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva
called the Palladium. It was said to have fallen from
heaven, and the belief was that the city could not be
taken so long as this statue remained within it. Ulysses
and Diomed entered the city in disguise and succeeded
in obtaining the Palladium, which they carried off to the
Grecian camp.

But Troy still held out, and the Greeks began to
despair of ever subduing it by force, and by advice of
Ulysses resolved to resort to stratagem. They pre-
tended to be making preparations to abandon the siege,
and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid
behind a neighboring island. The Greeks then con-
structed an immense ivooden horse, which they gave out
was intended as a propitiatory offering to Minerva, but in
fact was filled with armed men. The remaining Greeks
then betook themselves to their ships and sailed away,
as if for a final departure. The Trojans, seeing the en-

* Tennyson has chosen OTnone as the subject of a short poem; but he
has omitted the most poetical part of the story, the return of Paris
wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.

230 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

campment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the
enemy to have abandoned the siege. The gates were
thrown open, and the whole population issued forth
rejoicing at the long-prohibited liberty of. passing freely
over the scene of the late encampment. The great
horse was the chief object of curiosity. All wondered
what it could be for. Some recommended to take it
into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it.

While they hesitate, Laocoon, the priest of Neptune
exclaims, "What madness, citizens, is this? Have yot
not learned enough of Grecian fraud to be on your
guard against it? For my part, I fear the Greeks even
when they offer gifts." ^ So saying he threw his lance
at the horse's side. It struck, and a hollow sound
reverberated like a groan. Then perhaps the people
might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal
horse and all its contents; but just at that moment a
group of people appeared, dragging forward one who
seemed a prisoner and a Greek. Stupefied with terror,
he was brought before the chiefs, who reassured him,
promising that his life should be spared on condition of
his returning true answers to the questions asked him.
He informed them that he was a Greek, Sinon by
name, and that in consequence of the malice of Ulysses
he had been left behind by his countrymen at their de-
parture. With regard to the wooden horse, he told
them that it was a propitiatory offering to Minerva,
and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing
its being carried within the city ; for Calchas the prophet
had told them that if the Trojans took possession of
it they would assuredly triumph over the Greeks. This
language turned the tide of the people's feelings and
they began to think how they might b^t secure the mon-
strous horse and the favorable auguries connected with
it, when suddenly a prodig}' occurred which left no
room to doubt. There appeared, advancing over the
sea, two immense serpents. They came upon the land,
and the crowd fled in all directions. The serpents ad-
vanced directly to the spot where Laocoon stood with
his two sons. They first attacked the children, winding

* See Proverbial Expressions.

THE FALL OF TROY 231

round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath
in their faces. The father, attempting to rescue them,
is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils. He
struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his
efforts and strangle him and the children in their poison-
ous folds. This event was regarded as a clear indication
of the displeasure of the gods at Laocoon's irreverent
treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer
hesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to
introduce with due solemnity into the city. This was
done with songs and triumphal acclamations, and the
day closed with festivity. In the night the armed men
who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being let
out by the traitor Sinon. opened the gates of the city
to their friends, who had returned under cover of the
night. The city was set on lire ; the people, overcome
with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and Troy
completely subdued.

One of the most celebrated groups of statuary in ex-
istence is that of Laocoon and his children in the em-
brace of the serpents. A cast of it is owned by the Bos-
ton Athenaeum ; the original is in the Vatican at Rome.
The following lines are from the "Childe Harold" of
Byron :

"Now turning to the Vatican go see
Laocoon's torture dignifying pain;
A father's love and mortal's agony
With an immortal's patience blending; vain
The struggle! vain against the coiling strain
And gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp
The old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain
Rivets the living links ; the enormous asp
Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp."

The comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classi-
cal allusion. The following is from Swift's "Descrip-
tion of a City Shower" :

"Boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din
The leather sounds; he trembles from within.

232 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
(Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Instead of paying chairmen, run them through) ;
Laocoon struck the outside with a spear,
And each imprisoned champion quaked with fear."

King Priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom
and was slain at last on the fatal night when the Greeks
took the city. He had armed himself and was about
to mingle with the combatants, but was prevailed on by
Hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with herself
and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of Jupiter.
While there, his youngest son Polites, pursued by
Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, rushed in wounded, and
expired at the feet of his father; whereupon Priam,
overcome with indignation, hurled his spear with feeble
hand against Pyrrhus,^ and was forthwith slain by him.
^^ Queen Hecuba and her daughter Cassandra were
carried captives to Greece. Cassandra had been loved '
by Apollo, and he gave her the gift of prophecy; "^t
afterwards offended with her, he rendered the gift un-
availing by ordaining that her predictions should never
be believed. Polyxena, another daughter, who had
been loved by Achilles, was demanded by the ghost of
that warrior, and was sacrificed by the Greeks upon his
tomb.

MENELAUS AND HELEN

Our readers will be anxious to know the fate of
Helen, the fair but guilty occasion of so much slaughter.
On the fall of Troy Menelaus recovered possession of
his wife, who had not ceased to love him, though she
had yielded to the might of Venus ai>d deserted him for
another. After the death of Paris she aided the Greeks
secretly on several occasions, and in particular when
Ulysses and Diomed entered the city in disguise to
carry off the Palladium. She saw and recognized
Ulysses, but kept the secret and even assisted them in
obtaining the image. Thus she became reconciled to

^ Pyrrhus's exclamation, "Not such aid nor such defenders does th<
time require," has become proverbial. See Proverbial Expressions.

1

AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA 233

her husband, and they were among the first to leave
the shores of Troy for their native land. But having
incurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by
storms from shore to shore of the Mediterranean, visit-
ing Cyprus, Phoenicia, and Egypt. In Egypt they were
kindly treated and presented with rich gifts, of which
Helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on
wheels. The basket was to hold the wool and spools
for the queen's work.

Dyer, in his poem of the "Fleece," thus alludes to
this incident :

". . . many yet adhere
To the ancient distaff, at the bosom fixed,
Casting the whirhng spindle as they walk.

This was of old, in no inglorious days,
The mode of spinning, when the Egyptian prince
A golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph,
Too beauteous Helen; no uncourtly gift."

Milton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invig-
orating draught, called Nepenthe, which the Egyptian
queen gave to Helen :

"Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of such power to stir up joy as this.
To life so friendly or so cool to thirst."

Comus.

Menelaus and Helen at length arrived in safety at
Sparta, resumed their royal dignity, and lived and
reigned in splendor; and when Telemachus, the son of
Ulysses, in search of his father, arrived at Sparta, he
found Menelaus and Helen celebrating the marriage of
their daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus, son of
Achilles.

AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA

Agamemnon, the general-in-chief of the Greeks, the
brother of Menelaus, and who had been drawn into
the quarrel to avenge his brother's wrongs, not his own.

234 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

was not so fortunate in the issue. During his absence
his wife Clytemnestra had been false to him, and when
his return was expected, she with her paramour, ^gis-
thus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet
given to celebrate his return, murdered him.

It was intended by the conspirators to slay his son
Orestes also, a lad not yet old enough to be an object
of apprehension, but from whom, if he should be suf-
fered to grow up, there might be danger. Electra, the
sister of Orestes, saved her brother's life by sending
him secretly away to his uncle Strophius, King of
Phocis. In the palace of Strophius Orestes grew up
with the king's son Pylades, and formed with him that
ardent friendship which has become proverbial. Electra
frequently reminded her brother by messengers of the
duty of avenging his father's death, and when grown up
he consulted the oracle of Delphi, which confirmed him
in his design. He therefore repaired in disguise to
Argos, pretending to be a messenger from Strophius, who
had come to announce the death of Orestes, and brought
the ashes of the deceased in a funeral urn. After visit-
ing his father's tomb and sacrificing upon it, according
to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known to
his sister Electra, and soon after slew both ^gisthus
and Clytemnestra.

This revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her
son, though alleviated by the guilt of the victim and
the express command of the gods, did not fail to awaken
in the breasts of the ancients the same abhorrence that
it does in ours. The Eumenides, avenging deities,
seized upon Orestes, and drove him frantic from land
to land. Pylades accompanied him in his wanderings
and watched over him. At length, in/answer to a second
appeal to the oracle, he was directed to go to Tauris in
Scythia, and to bring thence a statue of Diana which
was believed to have fallen from heaven. Accordingly
Orestes and Pylades went to Tauris, where the barbar-
ous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess
all strangers who fell into their hands. The two friends
were seized and carried bound to the temple to be made
victims. But the priestess of Diana was no other than

AGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA 235

Iphigenia, the sister of Orestes, who, our readers will
remember, was snatched away by Diana at the moment
when she was about to be sacrificed. Ascertaining from
the prisoners who they were, Iphigenia disclosed herself
to them, and the three made their escape with the statue
of the goddess, and returned to Mycenae.

But Orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance
of the Erinyes. At length he took refuge with Minerva
at Athens. The goddess afforded him protection, and
appointed the court of Areopagus to decide his fate.
The Erinyes brought forward their accusation, and
Orestes made the command of the Delphic oracle his
excuse. When the court voted and the voices were
equally divided, Orestes was acquitted by the command
of Minerva.

Byron, in "Childe Harold," Canto IV., alludes to the
story of Orestes :

"O thou who never yet of human wrong
Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis!
Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss,
And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss,
For that unnatural retribution, just.
Had it but been from hands less near, in this,
Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust !"

One of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama
is that in which Sophocles represents the meeting of
Orestes and Electra, on his return from Phocis. Ores-
tes, mistaking Electra for one of the domestics, and
desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the hour of
vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which
his ashes are supposed to rest. Electra, believing him
to be really dead, takes the urn and, embracing it,
pours forth her grief in language full of tenderness and
despair.

Milton, in one of his sonnets, says :

". . . The repeated air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power _
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.'*

236 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

This alludes to the story that when, on one occasion,
the city of Athens was at the mercy of her Spartan foes,
and it was proposed to destroy it, the thought was re-
jected upon the accidental quotation, by some one, of
a chorus of Euripides.

TROY

After hearing so much about the city of Troy and
its heroes, the reader will perhaps be surprised to learn
that the exact site of that famous city is still a matter
of dispute. There are some vestiges of tombs on the
plain which most nearly answers to the description given
by Homer and the ancient geographers, but no other
evidence of the former existence of a great city. Byron
thus describes the present appearance of the scene :

"The winds are high, and Helle's tide

Rolls darkly heaving to the main ;

And night's descending shadows hide

That field with blood bedewed in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride,
The tombs, sole relics of his reign,
All save immortal dreams that could beguile
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle."

Bride of Abydos.

CHAPTER XXIX

ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES THE LOTUS-EATERS CYCLOPES

CIRCE SIRENS SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS CALYPSO

__ RETURN OF ULYSSES

The romantic poem of the Odyssey is now to engage
our attention. It narrates the wanderings of Ulysses
(Odysseus in the Greek language) in his return from
Troy to his own kingdom Ithaca.

From Troy the vessels first made land at Ismarus,
city of the Ciconians, where, in a skirmish with the
inhabitants, Ulysses lost six men from each ship. Sail-
ing thence, they were overtaken by a storm which drove

I

RETURN OF ULYSSES 237

them for nine days along the sea till they reached the
country of the Lotus-eaters. Here, after watering,
Ulysses sent three of his men to discover who the in-
habitants were. These men on coming among the Lotus-
eaters were kindly entertained by them, and were given
some of their own food, the lotus-plant, to eat. The
effect of this food was such that those who partook of
it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain in
that country. It was by main force that Ulysses dragged
these men away, and he was even obliged to tie them
under the benches of the ships. ^

They next arrived at the country of the Cyclopes:
The Cyclopes were giants, who inhabited an island of
which they were the only possessors. The name means
"round eye," and these giants were so called because
they had but one eye, and that placed in the middle of
the forehead. They dwelt in caves and fed on the wild
productions of the island and on what their flocks
yielded, for they were shepherds. Ulysses left the
main body of his ships at anchor, and with one vessel
went to the Cyclopes' island to explore for supplies. He
landed with his companions, carrying with them a jar of
wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they
entered it, and finding no one within examined its con-
tents. They found it stored with the richest of the
flock, quantities of cheese, pails and bowls of milk,
lambs and kids in their pens, all in nice order. Presently
arrived the master of the cave, Polyphemus, bearing an
immense bundle of firewood, which he threw down be-
fore the cavern's mouth. He then drove into the cave

^ Tennyson in the "Lotus-eaters" has charmingly expressed the dreamy,
languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have produced.

"How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream
W^ith half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each others' whisperecl speech;
Eating the Lotos, day by day.
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach.
And tender curving lines of creamy spray:
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory.
With those old faces of our infancy
Heaped over with a mound of grass,
Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass,"

238 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

the sheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled
to the cave's mouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen
could not draw. Next he sat down and milked his
ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and setting the rest
aside for his customary drink. Then, turning round
his great eye, he discerned the strangers, and growled
out to them, demanding who they were, and where from.
Ulysses replied most humbly, stating that they were
Greeks, from the great expedition that had lately won
so much glory in the conquest of Troy; that they were
now on their way home, and finished by imploring his
hospitality in the name of the gods. Polyphemus
deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized
two of the Greeks, whom he hurled against the side of
the cave, and dashed out their brains. He proceeded
to devour them with great relish, and having made a
hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor to sleep.
Ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge
his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it
would only expose them all to certain destruction, as the
rock with which the giant had closed up the door was far
beyond their power to remove, and they would there-
fore be in hopeless imprisonment. Next morning the
giant seized two more of the Greeks, and despatched
them in the same manner as their companions, feasting
on their flesh till no fragment was left. He then moved
away the rock from the door, drove out his flocks, and
went out, carefully replacing the barrier after him.
When he was gone Ulysses planned how he might take
vengeance for his murdered friends, and etlect his
escape with his surviving companions. He made his men
prepare a massive bar of wood cut by the Cyclops for
a staff, which they found in the cave/ They sharpened
the end of it, and seasoned it in the fire, and hid it
under the straw on the cavern floor. Then four of
the boldest were selected, Avith whom Ulysses joined
himself as a fifth. The Cyclops came home at evening,
rolled away the stone and drove in his flock as usual.
After milking them and making his arrangements as be-
fore, he seized two more of Ulysses' companions and
dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal

RETURN OF ULYSSES 239

upon them as he had on the others. After he had
supped, Ulysses approaching him handed him a bowl of
wine, saying, ''Cyclops, this is wine; taste and drink
after thy meal of men's flesh." He took and drank it,
ana was hugely delighted with it, and called for more.
Ulysses supplied him once again, which pleased the giant
so much that he promised him as a favor that he should
be the last of the party devoured. He asked his name,
to which Ulysses replied, "My name is Noman."

After his supper the giant lay down to repose, and
was soon sound asleep. Then Ulysses with his four
sdect friends thrust the end of the stake into the fire
till it was all one burning coal, then poising it exactly
above the giant's only eye, they buried it deeply into
the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his
auger. The howling monster with his outcry filled the
cavern, and Ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of
his way and concealed themselves in the cave. He,
bellowing, called aloud on all the Cyclopes dwelling in
the caves around him, far and near. They on his cry
flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt
had caused him to sound such an aiarm and break their
slumbers. He replied, "O friends, I die, and Noman
grv-es the blow." They answered, 'Tf no man hurts thee
it is the stroke of Jove, and thou must bear it." So
saying, they left him. groaning.

Next morning the Cyclops rolled away the stone to
let his flock out to pasture, but planted himself in the
door of the cave to feel of all as they went out, that
Ulysses and his men should not escape with them. But
Ulysses had made his men harness the rams of the
flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the
floor of the cave. To the middle ram of the three one
of the Greeks suspended himself, so protected by the
exterior rams on either side. As they passed, the giant
felt of the animals' backs and sides, but never thought
of their bellies ; so the men all passed safe, Ulysses him-
self being on the last one that passed. When they had
got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses and his friends
released themselves from their rams, and drove a good
part of the flock down to the shore to their boat. They

240 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

put them aboard with all haste, then pushed off from
the shore, and when at a safe distance Ulysses shouted
out, "Cyclops, the gods have well requited thee for thy
atrocious deeds. Know it is Ulysses to whom thou
owest thy shameful loss of sight." The Cyclops, hear-
ing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of
the mountain, and rending it from its bed, he lifted
it high in the air, then exerting all his force, hurled it
in the direction of the voice. Down came the mass,
just clearing the vessel's stern. The ocean, at the plunge
of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land, so
that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves.
When they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off
shore, Ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but
his friends besought him not to do so. He could not
forbear, however, letting the giant know that they had
escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a
safer distance than before. The giant answered them
with curses, but Ulysses and his friends plied their oars
vigorously, and soon regained their companions.

Ulysses next arrived at the island of ^Eolus. To this
monarch Jupiter had intrusted the government of the
winds, to send them forth or retain them at his will.
He treated Ulysses hospitably, and at his departure gave
hirn, tied up in a leathern bag, with a silver string,
such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous, com-
manding fair winds to blow the barks towards their coun-
try. Nine days they sped before the wind, and all that
time Ulysses had stood at the helm, without sleep. At
last quite exhausted he lay down to sleep. While he
slept, the crew conferred together about the mysterious
bag, and concluded it must contain /reasures given by
the hospitable king ^olus to their commander. Tempt-
ed to secure some portion for themselves, they loosed
the string, when immediately the winds rushed forth.
The ships were driven far from their course, and back
again to the island they had just left, ^olus was so
indignant at their folly that he refused to assist them
further, and they were obliged to labor over their course
once more by means of their oars.

LAOCOON, WITH SONS.
Vatican Museum, Rome.

THE L^STRYGONIANS 241

THE LvESTRYGONIANS

Their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe
of Lsestrygonians. The vessels all pushed into the har-
bor, tempted by the secure appearance of the cove, com-
pletely land-locked; only Ulysses moored his vessel
without. As soon as the Laestrygonians found the ships
completely in their power they attacked them, heaving
huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with
.their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled
in the water. All the vessels with their crews were de-
stroyed, except Ulysses' ov/n ship, which had remained
outside, and finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted
his rnen to ply their oars vigorously, and they escaped

With grief for their slain companions mixed with joy
at their own escape, they pursued their way till they
arrived at the ^asan isle, where Circe dwelt, the daugh-
ter of the sun. Landing here, Ulysses climbed a hill,
and gazing round saw no signs of habitation except in
one spot at the centre of the island, where he perceived
a palace embowered with trees. He sent forward one-
half of his crew, under the command of Eurylochus, to
see what prospect of hospitality they might find. As
they approached the palace, they found themselves sur-
rounded by lions, tigers, and wolves, not fierce, but tamed
by Circe's art, for she was a powerful magician. All
these animals had once been men, but had been changed
by Circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. The
sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a
sweet female voice singing. Eurylochus called aloud
and the goddess came forth and invited them in ; they
all gladly entered except Eurylochus, who suspected dan-
ger. The goddess conducted her guests to a seat, and
had them served with wine and other delicacies. When
they had feasted heartily, she touched them one by one
with her wand, and they became immediately changed
into swine, in "head, body, voice, and bristles," yet with
their intellects as before. She shut them in her sties
and supplied them with acorns and such other things
as swine love.

Eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the

242 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

tale. Ulysses thereupon determined to go himself, and
try if by any means he might deliver his companions.
As he strode onward alone, he met a youth who ad-
dressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted with
his adventures. He announced himself as Mercury, and
informed Ulysses of the arts of Circe, and of the dan-
ger of approaching her. As Ulysses was not to be dis-
suaded from his attempt, Mercury provided him with
a sprig of the plant Moly, of wonderful power to resist
sorceries, and instructed him how to act. Ulysses pro-,
ceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received
by Circe, who entertained him as she had done his com-
panions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched
him with her wand, saying, "Hence, seek the sty and
wallow with thy friends.'' But he, instead of obeying,*
drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his
countenance. She fell on her knees and begged for
mercy. He dictated a solemn oath that she would re-
lease his companions and practise no further harm
against him or them ; and she repeated it, at the same
time promising to dismiss them all in safety after hos-
pitably entertaining them. She was as good as her
word. The men were restored to their shapes, the rest
of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole
magnificently entertained day after day, till Ulysses
seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have
reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and
pleasure.- -

At length his companions recalled him to nobler sen-
timents, and he received their admonition gratefully.
Circe aided their departure, and instructed them how to
pass safely by the coast of the Sirens. The Sirens were
sea-nymphs who had the power of cnarming by their
song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners
were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea
to their destruction. Circe directed Ulysses to fill the
ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not
hear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the
mast, and his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever
he might say or do, by no means to release him till they
should have passed the Sirens' island. Ulysses obeyed

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS 243

these directions. He filled the ears of his people wfth
wax, and suffered them to bind him with cords firmly
to the mast. As they approached the Sirens' island,
the sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of
music so ravishing and attractive that Ulysses struggled
to get loose, and by cries and signs to his people begged
to be released ; but they, obedient to his previous orders,
sprang forward and bound him still faster. They held
on their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased
to be heard, when with joy Ulysses gave his companions
the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved him
from his bonds.

The imagination of a modern poet, Keats, has dis-
covered for us the thoughts that passed through the
brains of the victims of Circe, after their transforma-
tion. In his "Endymion" he represents one of them, a
monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the sor-
ceress in human language, thus :

"I sue not for my happy crown again ;
I sue not for my phalanx on the plain ;
I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife;
I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,
My children fair, my lovely girls and boys;
I will forget them ; I will pass these joys.
Ask nought so heavenward ; so too too high ;
Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die;
To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh,
From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh.
And merely given to the cold, bleak air.
Have mercy, goddess ! Circe, feel my prayer !"

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two mon-
sters Scylla and Charybdis. We have already met with
Scylla in the story of Glaucus, and remember that she
was once a beautiful maiden and was changed into a
snaky monster by Circe. She dwelt in a cave high up on
the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust
forth her long necks (for she had six heads), and in
each of her mouths to seize one of the crew of every
vessel passing within reach. The other terror, Charyb-

244 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

dis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the water. Thrice
each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm, and
thrice was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirl-
pool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be
ingulfed; not Neptune himself could save it.

On approaching the haunt of the dread monsters,
Ulysses kept strict watch to discover them. The roar
of the waters as Charybdis ingulfed them, gave warn-
ing at a distance, but Scylla could nowhere be discerned.
While Ulysses and his men watched with anxious eyes
the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on their
guard from the attack of Scylla, and the monster, dart-
ing forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and
bore them away, shrieking, to her den. It was the sad-
dest sight Ulysses had yet seen ; to behold his friends
thus sacrificed and hear their cries, unable to afford them
any assistance.

Circe had warned him of another danger. After pass-
ing Scylla and Charybdis the next land he would make
was Thrinakia, an island whereon were pastured the
cattle of Hyperion, the Sun, tended by his daughters
Lampetia and Phaethusa. These flocks must not be vio-
lated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. If
this injunction were transgressed destruction was sure
to fall on the offenders.

Ulysses would willingly have passed the island of
the Sun without stopping, but his companions so ur-
gently pleaded for the rest and refreshment that woul 1
be derived from anchoring and passing the night on
shore, that Ulysses yielded. He bound them, however,
with an oath that they would not touch one of the
animals of the sacred flocks and herds, but content
themselves with what provision they yet had left of the
supply which Circe had put on board. So long as this
supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary
winds detained them at the island for a month, and after
consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced
to rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch.
Famine pressed them, and at length one day, in the ab-
sence of Ulysses, they slew some of the cattle, vainly
attempting to make amends for the deed by offering

CALYPSO 245

from them a portion to the offended powers. Ulysses,
on his return to the shore, was horror-struck at per-,
ceiving what they had done, and the more so on account
of the portentous signs which followed. The skins crept
on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits
while roasting.

The wind becoming fair they sailed from the island.
They had not gone far when the weather changed,
and a storm of thunder and lightning ensued. A stroke
of lightning shattered their mast, which in its fall killed
the pilot. At last the vessel itself came to pieces. The
keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses formed of
them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing,
the waves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of
the crew perished.

The following allusion to the topics we have just been
considering is from Milton's "Comus," line 252:

"... I have often heard
My mother Circe and the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
CuUing their potent herbs and baneful drugs,
Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul
And lap it in Elysium. Scylla wept,
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause."

Scylla and Charybdis have become proverbial, to
denote opposite dangers which beset one's course. See
Proverbial Expressions.

CALYPSO

Calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a
numerous class of female divinities of lower rank, yet
sharing many of the attributes of the gods. Calypso
received Ulysses hospitably, entertained him magnifi-
cently, became enamoured of him, and wished to retain
him forever, conferring on him immortality. But he
persisted in his resolution to return to his country and
his wife and son. Calypso at last received the com-
mand of Jove to dismiss him. Mercury brought the

246 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

message to her, and found her in her grotto, which is
thus described by Homer :

"A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides,
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph,
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Strayed all around, and everywhere appeared
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er
With violets ; it was a scene to fill
A god from heaven with wonder and dehght."

Calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the
commands of Jupiter. She supplied Ulysses with the
rneans of constructing a raft, provisioned it well for him,
and gave him a favoring gale. He sped on his course
prosperously for many days, till at length, when in
sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and
threatened to rend the raft asunder. In this crisis he
was seen by a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the
form of a cormorant alighted on the raft, and presented
him a girdle, directing him to bind it beneath his breast,
and if he should be compelled to trust himself to the
waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swim-
ming to reach the land.

Fenelon, in his romance of "Telemachus," has given
us the adventures of the son of Ulysses in search of his
father. Among other places at which he arrived, fol-
lowing on his father's footsteps, was Calypso's isle, and,
as in the former case, the goddess tried every art to
keep him with her, and offered to share her immortality
with him. But Minerva, who in the shape of Mentor
accompanied him and governed all his movements,
made, him repel her allurements, an^a when no other
means of escape could be found, the two friends leaped
from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel which
lay becalmed off shore. Byron alludes to this leap of
Telemachus and Mentor in the following stanza:

"But not in silence pass Cab'pso's isles.
The sister tenants of the middle deep;
There for the weary still a haven smiles,
Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep,

THE PELAGIANS 247

And o'er her cliflfs a fruitless watch to keep
For him who dared prefer a mortal bride.
Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap,
Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;
While thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed."

CHAPTER XXX

THE PH^ACIANS FATE OF THE SUITORS

THE PH.EACIANS

Ulysses dung to the raft while any of its timbers
kept together, and when it no longer yielded him sup-
port, binding the girdle around him, he swam. Min-
erva smoothed the billows before him and sent him a
wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. The
surf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid ap-
proach; but at length finding calm water at the mouth
of a gentle stream, he landed, spent with toil, breathless
and speechless and almost dead. After some time, re-
viving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing, yet at a loss what
course to take. At a short distance he perceived a wood,
to which he turned his steps. There, finding a covert
sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun
and the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed
a bed, on which he stretched himself, and heaping the
leaves over him, fell asleep.

The land where he was thrown was Scheria, the coun-
try of the Phjeacians. These people dwelt originally
near the Cyclopes ; but being oppressed by that savage
race, they migrated to the isle of Scheria, under the
conduct of Nausithous, their king. They were, the poet
tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared mani-
festly and feasted among them when they offered sac-
rifices, and did not conceal themselves from solitary
wayfarers when they met them. They had abundance
of wealth and lived in the enjoyment of it undisturbed
by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote from
gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their

248 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

shores, and they did not even require to make use of
bows and quivers. Their chief employment was
navigation. Their ships, which went with the velocity
ijf birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew
every port and needed no pilot. Alcinoiis, the son
of Nausithoiis, was now their king, a wise and just
sovereign, beloved by his people.

Now it happened that the very night on which Ulysses
was cast ashore on the Phseacian island, and while he
lay sleeping on his bed of leaves, Nausicaa, the daugh-
ter of the king, had a dream sent by Minerva, remind-
ing her that her wedding-day was not far distant, and
that it would be but a prudent preparation for that event
to have a general washing of the clothes of the family.
This was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some
distance, and the garments must be carried thither. On
awaking, the princess hastened to her parents to tell
them what was on her mind; not alluding to her wed-
ding-day, but finding other reasons equally good. Her
father readily assented and ordered the grooms to fur-
nish forth a wagon for the purpose. The clothes were
put therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon,
likewise, an abundant supply of food and wine. The
princess took her seat and plied the lash, her attendant
virgins following her on foot. Arrived at the river side,
they turned out the mules to graze, and unlading the
carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and
working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched
their labor. Then having spread the garments on the
shore to dry, and having themselves bathed, they sat
down to enjoy their meal; after which they rose and
amused themselves with a game of ball, the princess
singing to them while they played. But when they had
refolded the apparel and were about to resume their
way to the town, Minerva caused the ball thrown by
the princess to fall into the water, whereat they all
screamed and Ulysses awaked at the sound.

Now we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a ship-
wrecked mariner, but a few hours escaped from the
waves, and utterly destitute of clothing, awaking and
discovering that only a few bushes were interposed be-

THE PH^ACIANS 249

tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by
their deportment and attire, he discovered to be not
mere peasant girls, but of a higher class. Sadly need-
ing help, how could he yet venture, naked as he was,
to discover himself and make his wants known? It
certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his
patron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a
crisis. Breaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held
it before him and stepped out from the thicket. The
virgins at sight of him fled in all directions, Nausicaa
alone excepted, for her Minerva aided and endowed
with courage and discernment. Ulysses, standing re-
spectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the
fair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he
knew not) for food and clothing. The princess replied
courteously, promising present relief and her father's
hospitality when he should become acquainted with the
facts. She called back her scattered maidens, chiding
their alarm, and reminding them that the Phaeacians had
no enemies to fear. This man, she told them, was an
unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for
the poor and stranger are from Jove. She bade them
bring food and clothing, for some of her brother's
garments were among the contents of the wagon. When
this was done, and Ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place,
had washed his body free from the sea-foam, clothed
and refreshed himself with food, Pallas dilated his form
and diffused grace over his ample chest and manly
brows.

The princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration,
and scrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished
the gods would send her such a husband. To Ulysses
she recommended that he should repair to the city, fol-
lowing herself and train so far as the way lay through
the fields ; but when they should approach the city she
desired that he would no longer be seen in her com-
pany, for she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar
people might make on seeing her return accompanied
by such a gallant stranger. To avoid which she directed
him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in which were
a farm and garden belonging to the king. After al-

250 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

lowing time for the princess and her companions to
reach the city, he was then to pursue his way thither,
and would be easily guided by any he might meet to
the royal abode.

Ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time pro-
ceeded to the city, on approaching which he met a
young woman bearing a pitcher forth for water. It
was Minerva, who had assumed that form. Ulysses ac-
costed her and desired to be directed to the palace of
Alcinoiis the king. The maiden replied respectfully,
offering to be his guide ; for the palace, she informed
him, stood near her father's dwelling. Under the
guidance of the goddess, and by her power enveloped
in a cloud which shielded him from observation, Ulysses
passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder ob-
sei^ved their harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort
of heroes), and their battlements, till they came to the
palace, where the goddess, having first given him some
information of the country, king, and people he was
about to meet, left him. Ulysses, before entering the
courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the scene.
Its splendor astonished him. Brazen walls stretched
from the entrance to the interior house, of which the
doors were gold, the doorposts silver, the lintels silver
ornamented with gold. On either side w^ere figures of
mastiff's wrought in gold and silver, standing in rows as
if to guard the approach. Along the walls were seats
spread through all their length with mantles of finest
texture, the work of Phseacian maidens. On these seats
the princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of
graceful youths held in their hands lie^hted torches which
shed radiance over the scene. Full fifty female menials
served in household offices, some emplpfyed to grind the
corn, others to wind off the purple wool or ply the
loom. For the Phseacian women as far exceeded all other
women in household arts as the mariners of that coun-
try did the rest of mankind in the management of ships.
Without the court a spacious garden lay, four acres in
extent. In it grew many a lofty tree, pomegranate,
pear, apple, fig, and olive. Neither winter's cold nor
summer's drought arrested their growth, but they flour-

THE PFL^ACIANS 251

ished in constant succession, some budding while others
were maturing. The vineyard was equally prolific. In
one quarter you might see the vines, some in blossom,
some loaded with ripe grapes, and in another observe
the vintagers treading the wine press. On the garden's
borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the year round,
arranged with neatest art. In the midst two fountains
poured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial chan-
nels over all the garden, the other conducted through
the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might
draw his supplies.

Ulysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved him-
self, for the cloud which Minerva spread around him
still shielded him. At length, having sufticiently ob-
served the scene, he advanced with rapid step into the
hall where the chiefs and senators were assembled, pour-
ing libation to Mercury, whose worship followed the
evening meal. Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud
and disclosed him to the assembled chiefs. Advancing
to the place where the queen sat, he knelt at her feet
and implored her favor and assistance to enable him
to return to his native country. Then withdrawing, he
seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth
side.

For a time none spoke. At last an aged statesman,
addressing the king, said, "It is not fit that a stranger
who asks our hospitality should be kept waiting in sup-
pliant guise, none welcoming him. Let him therefore
be led to a seat among us and supplied with food and
n^ine." At these words the king rising gave his hand
to Ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his
own son to make room for the stranger. Food and
wine were set before him and he ate and refreshed him-
self.

The king then dismissed his guests, notifying them
that the next day he would call them to council to con-
sider what had best be done for the stranger.

When the guests had departed and Ulysses was left
alone with the king and queen, the queen asked him
who he was and whence he came, and (recognizing the
clothes which he wore as those which her maidens and

252 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

herself had made) from whom he received those gar-
ments. He told them of his residence in Calypso's isle
and his departure thence ; of the wreck of his raft, his
escape by swimming, and of the relief afforded by the
princess. The parents heard approvingly, and the king
promised to furnish a ship in which his guest might re-
turn to his own land.

The next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the
promise of the king. A bark was prepared and a crew
of stout rowers selected, and all betook themselves to
the palace, where a bounteous repast was provided.
After the feast the king proposed that the young men
should show their guest their proficiency in manly
sports, and all went forth to the arena for games of
running, wrestling, and other exercises. After all had
done their best, Ulysses being challenged to show what
he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by one
of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than
any of the Phseacians had thrown, and sent it farther
than the utmost throw of theirs. All were astonished,
and viewed their guest with greatly increased respect.

After the games they returned to the hall, and the
herald led in Demodocus, the blind bard,

". . . Dear to the Muse,
Who yet appointed him both good and ill,
Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine."

He took for his theme the "Wooden Horse," by means
of which the Greeks found entrance into Troy. Apollo
inspired him, and he sang so feelingly the terrors and
the exploits of that eventful time that all were de-
lighted, but Ulysses was moved to tears. Observing
which, AlcinoiJs, when the song was d<5ne, demanded of
him why at the mention of Troy his sorrows awaked.
Had he lost there a father, or brother, or any dear
friend? Ulysses replied by announcing himself by his
true name, and at their request, recounted the adven-
tures which had befallen him since his departure from
Troy. This narrative raised the sympathy and admira-
tion of the Phseacians for their guest to the highest
pitch. The king proposed that all the chiefs should

THE PH^ACIANS 253

present him with a gift, himself setting the example.
They obeyed, and vied with one another in loading the
illustrious stranger with costly gifts.

The next day Ulysses set sail in the Phseacian ves-
sel, and in a short time arrived safe at Ithaca, his own
island. When the vessel touched the strand he was
asleep. The mariners, without waking him, carried
him on shore, and landed with him the chest containing
his presents, and then sailed away.

Neptune was so displeased at the conduct of the
Phseacians in thus rescuing Ulysses from his hands that
on the return of the vessel to port he transformed it into
a rock, right opposite the mouth of the harbor.

Homer's description of the ships of the Phseacians
has been thought to look like an anticipation of the
wonders of modern steam navigation. Alcinoiis says to
Ulysses :

"Say from what city, from what regions tossed,
And what inhabitants those regions boast?
So shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned,
In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;
No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;
Like man intelligent they plough the tides,
Conscious of every coast and every bay
That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray."

Odyssey, Book VIII.

Lord Carlisle, in his "Diary in the Turkish and Greek
Waters," thus speaks of Corfu, which he considers to
be the ancient Phseacian island :

"The sites explain the 'Odyssey.' The temple of the
sea-god could not have been more fitly placed, upon a
grassy platform of the most elastic turf, on the brow
of a crag commanding harbor, and channel, and ocean.
Just at the entrance of the inner harbor there is a pic-
turesque rock with a small convent perched upon it.
which by one legend is the transformed pinnace of
Ulysses.

"Almost the only river in the island is just at the
proper distance from the probable site of the city and
palace of the king, to justify the princess Nausicaa

254 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

having had resort to her chariot and to luncheon when
she went with the maidens of the court to wash their
garments."

FATE OF THE SUITORS

Ulysses had now been away from Ithaca for twenty
years, and when he awoke he did not recognize his na-
tive land. Minerva appeared to him in the form of a
young shepherd, informed him where he was, and told
him the state of things at his palace. More than a hun-
dred nobles of Ithaca and of the neighboring islands
had been for years suing for the hand of Penelope, his
wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his palace
and people, as if they were owners of both. That he
might be able to take vengeance upon them, it was im-
portant that he should not be recognized. Minerva ac-
cordingly metamorphosed him into an unsig^htly beggar,
and as such he was kindly received by Eumseus, the
swine-herd, a faithful serv^ant of his house.

Telemachus, his son. was absent in quest of his father.
He had gone to the courts of the other kingsT who had
returned from the Trojan expedition. While on the
search, he received counsel from Minerva to return
home. He arrived and sought Eum?eus to learn some-
thing of the state of affairs at the palace before present-
ing himself among the suitors. Finding a stranger with
Eumseus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb
of a beggar, and promised him assistance. Eumseus was
sent to the palace to inform Penelope privately of her
son's arrival, for caution was necessary with regard to
the suitors, who, as Telemachus had learned, were plot-
ting to intercept and kill him. When Eumseus was gone,
Minerva presented herself to Ulysses/ and directed him
to make himself known to his son. . At the same time
she touched him, removed at once from him the ap-
pearance of age and penury, and gave him the aspect of
vigorous manhood that belonged to him. Telemachus
A'iewed him with astonishment, and at first thought he
must be more than mortal. But Ulysses announced him-
self as his father, and accounted for the change of ap-
pearance by explaining that it was Minerva's doing.

FATE OF THE SUITORS 255

". . . Then threw Telemachns
His arms around his father's neck and wept.
Desire intense of lamentation seized
On both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged
His grief."

The father and son took counsel together how they
should get the better of the suitors and punish them for
their outrages. It was arranged that Telemachus should
proceed to the palace and mingle with the suitors as
formerly; that Ulysses should also go as a beggar, a
character which in the rude old times had different privi-
leges from what we concede to it now. As traveller
and storyteller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of
chieftains, and often treated like a guest ; though some-
times, also, no doubt, with contumely. Ulysses charged
his son not to betray, by any display of unusual interest
in him, that he knew him to be other than he seemed,
and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not to in-
terpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger.
At the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and
riot going on. The suitors pretended to receive Telem-
achus with joy at his rccurn, though secretly mortified
at the failure of their plots to take his life. The old
beggar was permitted to enter, and provided with a
portion from the table. A touching incident occurred as
Ulysses entered the courtyard of the palace. An old
dog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a
stranger enter, raised his head, with ears erect. It was
Argus, Ulysses' own dog, that he had in other days often
led to the chase.

". . . Soon as he perceived
Long-lost Ulysses nig:h, down fell his ears
Clapped close, and with his tail glad sign he gave
Of gratulation. impotent to rise,
And to approach his inaster as of old.
Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear
Unmarked.

. . . Then his destiny released
Old Argxis, soon as he had lived to see
Ulysses in the twentieth year restored."

As Ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the

256 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

suitors began to exhibit their insolence to him. When
he mildly remonstrated, one of them raised a stool and
with it gave him a blow. Telemachus had hard work
to restrain his indignation at seeing his father so treated
in his own hall, but remembering his father's injunctions,
said no more than what became him as master of the
house, though young, and protector of his guests.

Penelope had protracted her decision in favor of
either of her suitors so long that there seemed to be
no further pretence for delay. The continued absence
of her husband seemed to prove that his return was no
longer to be expected. Meanwhile her son had grown
up, and was able to manage his own affairs. She there-
fore consented to submit the question of her choice to
a trial of skill among the suitors. The test selected
was shooting with the bow. Twelve rings were ar-
ranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent through
the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize.
A bow that one of his brother heroes had given to
Ulysses in former times was brought from the armory,
and with its quiver full of arrows was laid in the hall.
Telemachus had taken care that all other weapons should
be removed, under pretence that in the heat of compe-
tition there was danger, in some rash moment, of put-
ting them to an improper use.

All things being prepared for the trial, the first thing
to be done was to bend the bow in order to attach the
string. Telemachus endeavored to do it, but found all
his efforts fruitless ; and modestly confessing that he
had attempted a task beyond his strength, he yielded the
bow to another. He tried it with no better success, and,
amidst the laughter and jeers of his companions, gave it
up. Another tried it and another; they rubbed the bow
with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend.
Then spoke Ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should
be permitted to try; for, said he, "beggar as I am, I
was once a soldier, and there is still some strength in
these old limbs of mine." The suitors hooted with de-
rision, and commanded to turn him out of the hall for
his insolence. But Telemachus spoke up for him, and,
merely to gratify the old man, bade him try. Ulysses

FATE OF THE SUITORS 257

took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master.
With ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting
an arrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the
arrow unerring through the rings.

Without allowing them time to express their aston-
ishment, he said, "Now for another mark!" and aimed
direct at the most insolent one of the suitors. The
arrow pierced through his throat and he fell dead.
Telemachus, Eumseus, and another faithful follower,
well armed, now sprang to the side of Ulysses. The
suitors, in amazement, looked round for arms, but found
none, neither was there any way of escape, for Eumaeus
had secured the door. Ulysses left them not long in
uncertainty; he announced himself as the long-lost chief,
whose house they had invaded, whose substance they
had squandered, whose wife and son they had perse-
cuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to
have ample vengeance. All were slain, and Ulysses was
left master of his palace and possessor of his kingdom
and his wife.

Tennyson's poem of "Ulysses" represents the old
hero, after his dangers past and nothing left but to stay
at home and be happy, growing tired of inaction and
resolving to set forth again in quest of new adventures:

". . . Come, my friends.
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles whom we knew ;" etc.

258 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER XXXI

ADVENTURES OF ^NEAS THE HARPIES ^DIDO

PALINURUS

ADVENTURES OF ^NEAS

We have followed one of the Grecian heroes, Ulysses,
in his wanderings on his return home from Troy, and
now we propose to share the fortunes of the remnant
of the conquered people, under their chief ^neas, in
their search for a new home, after the ruin of their na-
tive city. On that fatal night when the wooden horse
disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture
and conflagration of the city were the result, ^neas
made his escape from the scene of destruction, with
his father, and his wife, and young son. The father,
Anchises, was too old to walk with the speed required,
and ^neas took him upon his shoulders. Thus bur-
dened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he
made the best of his way out of the burning city; but,
in the confusion, his wife was swept away and lost.

On arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous
fugitives, of both sexes, were found, who put them-
selves under the guidance of yEneas. Some months
were spent in preparation, and at length they 'imbarked.
They first landed on the neighboring shores of Thrace,
and were preparing to build a city, but ^neas was
deterred by a prodigy. Preparing to offer sacrifice, he
tore some twigs from one of the bushes. To his dis-
may the wounded part dropped bloof^d. When he re-
peated the act a voice from the ground cried out to
him, "Spare me, ^neas ; I am your kinsman, Polydore,
here murdered with many arrows, from which a bush
has grown, nourished with my blood." These words
recalled to the recollection of ^Eneas that Polydore was
a young prince of Troy, whom his father had sent with
ample treasures to the neighboring land of Thrace, to
be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of
war. The king to whom he was sent had murdered

ADVENTURES OF ^NEAS 259

him and seized his treasures, ^neas and his compan-
ions, considering the land accursed by the stain of such
a crime, hastened away. '

They next landed on the island of Delos, which was
once a floating island, till Jupiter fastened it by adaman-
tine chains to the bottom of the sea. Apollo and Diana
were born there, and the island was sacred to Apollo.
Here ^neas consulted the oracle of Apollo, and re-
ceived an answer, ambiguous as usual, "Seek your an-
cient mother; there the race of ^neas shall dwell, and
reduce all other nations to their sway." The Trojans
heard with joy and immediately began to ask one an-
other, "Where is the spot intended by the oracle?"
Anchises remembered that there was a tradition that
their forefathers came from Crete and thither they re-
solved to steer. They arrived at Crete and began to
build their city, but sickness broke out among them,
and the fields that they had planted failed to yield a
crop. In this gloomy aspect of affairs yEneas was
warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a
western land, called Hesperia, whence Dardanus, the
true founder of the Trojan race, had originally mi-
grated. To Hesperia, now called Italy, therefore, they
directed their future course, and not till after many
adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to carry a
modern navigator several times round the world, did
they arrive there.

Their first landing was at the island of the Harpies.
These were disgusting birds with the heads of maidens,
with long claws and faces pale with hunger. They were
sent by the gods to torment a certain Phineus, whom
Jupiter had deprived of his sight, in punishment of his
cruelty; and whenever, a meal was placed before him
the Harpies darted down from the air and carried it
off. They were driven away from Phineus by the
heroes of the Argonautic expedition, and took refuge
in the island where ^neas now found them.

When they entered the port the Trojans saw herds
of cattle roaming over the plain. They slew as many
as they wished and prepared for a feast. Rut no sooner
had they seated themselves at the table than a horrible

260 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these odious
harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their
talons the meat from the dishes and flying away with
it. yEneas and his companions drew their swords and
dealt vigorous blows among the monsters, but to no pur-
pose, for they were so nimble it was almost impossible
to hit them, and their feathers were like armor im-
penetrable to steel. One of them, perched on a neigh-
boring cliff, screamed out, "Is it thus, Trojans, you treat
us innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle and then
make war on ourselves?" She then predicted dire suf-
ferings to them in their future course, and having vented
her wrath flew away. The Trojans made haste to leave
the country, and next found themselves coasting along
the shore of Epirus. Here they landed, and to their
astonishment learned that certain Trojan exiles, who
had been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers
of the country. Andromache, the widow of Hector, be-
came the wife of one of the victorious Grecian chiefs,
to whom she bore a son. Her husband dying, she was
left regent of the country, as guardian of her son, and
had married a fellow-captive, Helenus, of the royal race
of Troy. Helenus and Andromache treated the exiles
with the utmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded
with gifts.

From hence ^neas coasted along the shore of Sicily
and passed the country of the Cyclopes. Here they
were hailed from the shore by a miserable object, whom
by his garments, tattered as they were, they perceived
to be a Greek. He told them he was one of Ulysses's
companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried
departure. He related the story of Ulysses's adventure
with Polyphemus, and besought them to take him off
with them as he had no means of sustaining his ex-
istence where he was but wild berries and roots, and
lived in constant fear of the Cyclopes. While he spoke
Polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster,
shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out.^ He
walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff,
down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the

* See Proverbial Expression".

ADVENTURES OF .ENEAS 261

waves. When he reached the water, he waded out
towards them, and his immense height enabled him to
advance far into the sea, so that the Trojans, in terror,
took to their oars to get out of his way. Hearing the
oars, Polyphemus shouted after them, so that the shores
resounded, and at the noise the other Cyclopes came
forth from their caves and woods and lined the shore,
like a row of lofty pine trees. The Trojans plied their
oars and soon left them out of sight.

^neas had been cautioned by Helenus to avoid the
strait guarded by the monsters Scylla and Charybdis.
There Ulysses, the reader will remember, had lost six
of his men, seized by Scylla while the navigators were
wholly intent upon avoiding Charybdis. ^neas, fol-
lowing the advice of Helenus, shunned the dangerous
pass and coasted along the island of Sicily.

Juno, seeing the Trojans speeding their way prosper-
ously towards their destined shore, felt her old grudge
against them revive, for she could not forget the slight
that Paris had put upon her, in awarding Ihe prize of
beauty to another. In heavenly minds can such resent-
ments dwell !^ Accordingly she hastened to ^olus, the
ruler of the winds, the same who supplied Ulysses
with favoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied
up in a bag. ^olus obeyed the goddess and sent forth
his sons, Boreas, Typhon, and the other winds, to toss
the ocean. A terrible storm ensued and the Trojan ships
were driven out of their course towards the coast of
Africa. They were in imminent danger of being
wrecked, and were separated, so that ^neas thought
that all were lost except his own. I

At this crisis, Neptune, hearing the storm raging, and
knowing that he had given no orders for one, raised his
head above the waves, and saw the fleet of ^neas driv-
ing before the gale. Knowing the hostility of Juno, he
was at no loss to account for it, but his anger was not
the less at this interference in his province. He called
the winds and dismissed them with a severe reprimand.
He then soothed the waves, and brushed away the clouds
from before the face of the sun. Some of the ships

^ See Proverbial Expressions.

262 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

which had got on the rocks he pried off with his own
trident, while Triton and a sea-nymph, putting their
shoulders under others, set them afloat again. The Tro-
jans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest
shore, which was the coast of Carthage, where ^neas
was so happy as to find that one by one the ships all
arrived safe, though badly shaken.

Waller, in his "Panegyric to the Lord Protector"
(Cromwell), alludes to this stilling o^ the storm by
Neptune :

"Above the waves, as Neptune showed his face,
To chide the winds and save the Trojan race,
So has your Highness, raised above the rest,
Storms of ambition tossing us repressed."

DIDO

Carthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a
spot on the coast of Africa opposite Sicily, where at
that time a Tyrian colony under Dido, their queen, were
laying the foundations of a state destined in later ages
to be the rival of Rome itself. Dido was the daughter
of Belus, king of Tyre, and sister of Pygmalion, who
succeeded his father on the throne. Her husband was
Sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but Pygmalion,
who coveted his treasures, caused him to be put to death.
Dido, with a numerous body of friends and followers,
both men and women, succeeded in effecting their escape
from Tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the
treasures of Sichseus. On arriving at the spot which they
selected as the seat of their future home, they asked of
the natives only so much land as they could enclose with
a bull's hide. When this was readily granted, she caused
the hide to be cut iiito strips, and with them enclosed a
spot on which she built a citadel, and called it Byrsa (a
hide). Around this fort the city of Carthage rose, and
soon became a powerful and flourishing place.

Such was the state of affairs when ^neas with his
Trojans arrived there. Dido received the illustrious
exiles with friendliness and hospitality. "Not unac-

DIDO 263

quainted with distress," she said, "I have learned to
succor the unfortunate."^ The queen's hospitality dis-
played itself in festivities at which games of strength
and skill were exhibited. The strangers contended for
the palm with her own subjects, on equal terms, the
queen declaring that whether the victor were "Trojan or
Tyrian should make no difference to her."^ At the feast
which followed the games, ^neas gave at her request
a recital of the closing events of the Trojan history and
his own adventures after the fall of the city. Dido was
charmed with his discourse and filled with admiration
of his exploits. She conceived an ardent passion for
him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept
the fortunate chance which appeared to offer him at
once a happy termination of his wanderings, a home, a
kingdom, and a bride. Months rolled away in the en-
joyment of pleasant intercourse, and it seemed as if
Italy and the empire destined to be founded on its shores
were alike forgotten. Seeing which, Jupiter despatched
Mercury with a message to ^neas recalling him to a
sense of his high destiny, and commanding him to re-
sume his voyage.

^neas parted from Dido, though she tried every al-
lurement and persuasion to detain him. The blow to
her affection and her pride was too much for her to
endure, and when she found that he was gone, she
mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be
erected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with
the pile. The flames rising over the city were seen by
the departing Trojans, and, though the cause was un-
known, gave to .^neas some intimation of the fatal
event.

The following epigram we find in "Elegant Ex-
tracts" :

From the Latin

"Unhappy, Dido, was thy fate
In first and second married state!
One husband caused thy flip:ht by dying,
Thy death the other caused by flying."

' See Proverbial Expressions.

264 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

PALINURUS

After touching at the island of Sicily, where Acestes,
a prince of Trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them
a hospitable reception, the Trojans reembarked, and
held on their course for Italy. Venus now interceded
with Neptune to allow her son at last to attain the
wished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the
deep. Neptune consented, stipulating only for one life
as a ransom for the rest. The victim was Palinurus,
the pilot. As he sat watching the stars, with his hand
on the helm, Somnus sent by Neptune approached in
the guise of Phorbas and said: "Palinurus, the breeze
is fair, the water smooth, and the ship sails steadily on
her course. Lie down awhile and take needful rest.
I will stand at the helm in your place." Palinurus re-
plied, "Tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,
me who have seen so much of their treachery. Shall
I trust .(Eneas to the chances of the weather and the
winds?" And he continued to grasp the helm and to
keep his eyes fixed on the stars. But Somnus waved
over him a branch moistened wtih Lethaean dew, and
his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. Then Somnus
pushed him overboard and he fell ; but keeping his hold
upon the helm, it came away with him. Neptune was
mindful of his promise and kept the ship on her track
without helm or pilot, till ^neas discovered his loss,
and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took
charge of the ship himself.

There is a beautiful allusion to the story of Palinurus
in Scott's "Marmion," Introduction t6 Canto I., where
the poet, speaking of the recent death of William Pitt,
says:

"O, think how, to his latest day.
When death just hovering claimed his prey,
With Palinure's unaltered mood.
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for needful rest repelled.
With dying hand the rudder held.
Till in his fall, with fateful sway,
The steerage of the realm gave way."

PALINURUS 265

The ships at last reached the shores of Italy, and joy-
fully did the adventurers leap to land. While his people
were employed in making their encampment ^neas
sought the abode of the Sibyl. It was a cave connected
with a temple and grove, sacred to Apollo and Diana.
While /Eneas contemplated the scene, the Sibyl accosted
him. She seemed to know his errand, and under the
influence of the deity of the place, burst forth in a pro-
phetic strain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils
through which he was destined to make his way to
final success. She closed with the encouraging words
which have become proverbial : "Yield not to disasters,
but press onward the more bravely."^ yEneas replied
that he had prepared himself for whatever might await
him. He had but one request to make. Having been
directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in
order to confer with his father, Anchises, to receive
from him a revelation of his future fortunes and those
of his race, he asked her assistance to enable him to ac-
complish the task. The Sibyl replied, "The descent to
Avernus is easy: the gate of Pluto stands open night
and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the
upper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty."^ _ She in-
structed him to seek in the forest a tree on which grew
a golden branch. This branch was to be plucked ofiE
and borne as a gift to Proserpine, and if fate was pro-
pitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent
trunk, but otherwise no force could rend it away. If
torn away, another would succeed.^

^neas followed the directions of the Sibyl. His
mother, Venus, sent two of her doves to fly before him
and show him the way, and by their assistance he found
the tree, plucked the branch, and hastened back with it
to the Sibyl.

* See Proverbial Expressions.

266 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
CHAPTER XXXH

THE INFERNAL REGIONS THE SIBYL

THE INFERNAL REGIONS

As at the commencement of our series we have given
the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as
we approach its conclusion we present a view of the
regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most en-
lightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most
esteemed philosophers. The region vvhere Virgil locates
the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly
adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural
of any on the face of the earth. It is the volcanic
region near Vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft
with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while
the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysteri-
ous sounds issue from the bowels of the earth. The
lake Avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an ex-
tinct volcano. It is circular, half a mile wide, and very
deep, surrounded by high banks, which in Virgil's time
were covered with a gloomy forest. Mephitic vapors
rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks,
and no birds fly over it. Here, according to the poet,
was the cave which afi^orded access to the infernal re-
gions, and here yEneas oft"ered sacrifices to the infernal
deities, Proserpine, Hecate, and the Furies. Then a
roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-
tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced
the approach of the deities. "Now," said the Sibyl,
"summon up your courage, for youXvill need it." She
descended into the cave, and ^neas followed. Before
the threshold of hell they passed through a group of
beings who are enumerated as Griefs and avenging
Cares, pale Diseases and melancholy Age, Fear and
Hunger that tempt to crime. Toil, Poverty, and Death,
forms horrible to view. The Furies spread their couches
there, and Discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up
with a bloody fillet. Here also were the monsters,

THE INFERNAL REGIONS 267

Briareus, with his hundred arms, Hydras hissing, and
Chimseras breathing fire. yEneas shuddered at the sight,
drew his sword and would have struck, but the Sibyl
restrained him. They then came to the black river
Cocytus, where they found the ferryman, Charon, old
and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving
passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous
heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the
leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly south-
ward at the approach of winter.. They stood pressing
for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore.
But the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose,
driving the rest back, ^neas, wondering at the sight,
asked the Sibyl, "Why this discrimination?" She an-
swered, "Those who are taken on board the bark are the
souls of those who have received due burial rites ; the
host of others who have remained unburied are not
permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years,
and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are
taken over." yEneas grieved at recollecting some of
his own companions who had perished in the storm. At
that moment he beheld Palinurus, his pilot, who fell
overboard and was drowned. He addressed him and
asked him the cause of his misfortune. Palinurus re-
plied that the rudder was carried away, and he, clinging
to it, was swept away with it. He besought yEneas
most urgently to extend to him his hand and take him
in company to the opposite shore. But the Sibyl re-
buked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of
Pluto; but consoled him by informing him that the peo-
ple of the shore where his body had been wafted by
the waves should be stirred up by prodigies to give it
due burial, and that the promontory should bear the
name of Cape Palinurus, which it does to this day.
Leaving Palinurus consoled by these words, they ap-
proached the boat. Charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon
the advancing warrior, demanded by what right he, liv-
ing and armed, approached that shore. To which the
Sibyl replied that they would commit no violence, that
^neas's only object was to see his father, and finally
exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which Charon's

268

STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

wrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to
the shore, and receive them on board. The boat,
adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits,
groaned under the weight of the hero. They were soon
conveyed to the opposite shore. There they were en-
countered by the three-headed dog, Cerberus, with his
necks bristling with snakes. He barked with all his
three throats till the Sibyl threw him a medicated cake
which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched himself
out in his den and fell asleep, ^neas and the Sibyl
sprang to land. The first sound that struck their ears
was the wailing of young children, who had died on the
threshold of life, and near to these were they who had
perished under false charges. Minos presides over them
as judge, and examines the deeds of each. The next
class was of those who had died by their own hand, hat-
ing life and seeking refuge in death. O how willingly
would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other
infliction, if they might but return to life ! Next were
situated the regions of sadness, divided off into retired
paths, leading through groves of myrtle. Here roamed
those who had fallen victims to unrequited love, not
freed from pain even by death itself. Among these,
^neas thought he descried the form of Dido, with
a wound still recent. In the dim light he was for a mo-
ment uncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed
herself. Tears fell from his eyes, and he addressed her
in the accents of love. "Unhappy Dido ! was then the
rumor true that you had perished? and was I, alas! the
cause ? I call the gods to witness that my departure
from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the com-
mands of Jove; nor could I believ^ that my absence
would cost you so dear. Stop, I beseech you, and refuse
me not a last farewell." She stood for a moment with
averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the ground, and
then silently passed on, as insensible to his pleadings as
a rock. yEneas followed for some distance; then, with
a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his
route.

They next entered the fields where roam the heroes
who have fallen in battle. Here they saw many shades

THE INFERNAL REGIONS 269

of Grecian and Trojan warriors. The Trojans thronged
around him, and could not be satisfied with the sight.
They asked the cause of his coming, and plied him with
innumerable questions. But the Greeks, at the sight of
his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, rec-
ognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their
backs and fled, as they used to do on the plains of Troy,
^neas would have lingered long with his Trojan
friends, but the Sibyl hurried him away. They next
came to a place where the road divided, the one leading
to Elysium, the other to the regions of the condemned.
./Eneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty city,
around which Phlegethon rolled its fiery waters. Be-
fore him was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor
men can break through. An iron tower stood by the
gate, on which Tisiphone, the avenging Fury,* kept
guard. From the city were heard groans, and the sound
of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking
of chains, ^neas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide
what crimes were those whose punishments produced
the sounds he heard? The Sibyl answered, ''Here is the
judgment hall of Rhadamanthus, who brings to light
crimes done in life, which the perpetrator vainly thought
impenetrably hid. Tisiphone applies her whip of scor-
pions, and delivers the offender over to her sister
Furies." At this moment with horrid clang the brazen
gates unfolded, and ^neas saw within a Hydra with
fifty heads guarding the entrance. The Sibyl told him
that the gulf of Tartarus descended deep, so that its
recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was
high above their heads. In the bottom of this pit, the
Titan race, who warred against the gods, lie prostrate ;
Salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with Jupiter, and
built a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot
that the sound might resemble thunder, launching flam-
ing brands at his people in imitation of lightning, till
Jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught
him the difference between mortal weapons and divine.
Here, also, is Tityus, the giant, whose form is so im-
mense that as he lies he stretches over nine acres, while
a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is

270 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

devoured grows again, so that his punishment will have
no end.

iEneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dain-
ties, while near by stood a Fury who snatched away the
viands from their lips as fast as they prepared to taste
them. Others beheld suspended over their heads huge
rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in a state of
constant alarm. These were they who had hated their
brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the
friends who trusted them, or who, having grown rich,
kept their money to themselves, and gave no share to
others ; the last being the most numerous class. Here
also were those who had violated the marriage vow, or
fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their em-
ployers. Here was one who had sold his country for
gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say
one thing to-day and another to-morrow.

Ixion was there, fastened to the circumference of a
wheel ceaselessly revolving; and Sisyphus, whose task
was to roll a huge stone up to a hill-top, but when the
steep was well-nigh gained, the rock, repulsed by some
sudden force, rushed again headlong down to the plain.
Again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed all his
weary limbs, but all to no effect. There was Tantalus,
who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet
he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to as-
suage it ; for when he bowed his hoary head, eager to
quaff, the water fled away, leaving the ground at his
feet all dry. Tall trees laden with fruit stooped their
heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious
figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize
them winds whirled them high above his reach.

The Sibyl now warned yEneas that it was time to
turn from these melancholy regions and seek the city of
the blessed. They passed through a middle tract of
darkness, and came upon the Elysian fields, the groves
where the happy reside. They breathed a freer air,
and saw all objects clothed in a purple light. The re-
gion has a sun and stars of its own. The inhabitants
were enjoying themselves in various ways, some in
sports on the grassy turf, in games of strength or skill.

THE INFERNAL REGIONS 271

others dancing or singing. Orpheus struck the chords
of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds. Here
/Eneas saw the founders of the Trojan state, magnani-
mous heroes who lived in happier times. He gazed
with admiration on the war chariots and glittering arms
now reposing in disuse. Spears stood fixed in the
ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed over the
plain. The same pride in splendid armor and generous
steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied
them here. He saw another group feasting and listen-
ing to the strains of music. They were in a laurel grove,
whence the great river Po has its origin, and flows out
among men. Here dwelt those who fell by wounds re-
ceived in their country's cause, holy priests also, and
poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of Apollo, and
others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life by
their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their
memory blessed by rendering service to mankind. They
wore snow-white fillets about their brows. The Sibyl
addressed a group of these, and inquired where Anchises
was to be found. They were directed where to seek
him, and soon found him in a verdant valley, where he
was contemplating the ranks of his posterity, their des-
tinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times.
When he recognized ^neas approaching, he stretched
out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely. "Have
you come at last," said he, "long expected, and do I be-
hold you after such perils past? O my son, how have
I trembled for you as I have watched your career !"
To which ^neas replied, "O father! your image was
always before me to guide and guard me." Then he
endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his
arms enclosed only an unsubstantial image.

^neas perceived before him a spacious valley, with
trees gently waving to the wind, a tranquil landscape,
through which the river Lethe flowed. Along the
banks of the stream wandered a countless multitude,
numerous as insects in the summer air. ^neas, with
surprise, inquired who were these. Anchises answered,
"They are souls to which bodies are to be given in due
time. Meanwhile they dwell on Lethe's bank, and drink

272 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

oblivion of their former lives." "O father!" said
JEnesLS, "is it possible that any can be so in love with
life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the
upper world?" Anchises replied by explaining the plan
of creation. The Creator, he told him, originally made
the material of which souls are composed of the four
elements, fire, air, earth, and water, all which when
united took the form of the most excellent part, fire, and
became flame. This material was scattered like seed
among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars.
Of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other
animals, mingling it with various proportions of earth,
by which its purity was alloyed and reduced. Thus, the
more earth predominates in the composition the less pure
is the individual ; and we see men and women with
their full-grown bodies have not the purity of child-
hood. So in proportion to the time which the union of
body and soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by
the spiritual part. This impurity must be purged away
after death, which is done by ventilating the souls in
the current of winds, or merging them in water, or
burning out their impurities by fire. Some few, of whom
Anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once
to Elysium, there to remain. But the rest, after the
impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to
life endowed with new bodies, having had the remem-
brance of their former lives effectually washed away by
the waters of Lethe. Some, however, there still are, so
thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to be in-
trusted with human bodies, and these are made into
brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc.
This is what the ancients called Metempsychosis, or the
transmigration of souls ; a doctrine which is still held by
the natives of India, who scruple to destroy the life even
of the most insignificant animal, not knowing but it may
be one of their relations in an altered form.

Anchises, having explained so much, proceeded to
point out to ^neas individuals of his race, who were
hereafter to be born, and to relate to him the exploits
they should perform in the world. After this he re-
verted to the present, and told his son of the events that

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THE CUMEAN SIBYL.
From painting by Michael Angelo. Sistine Chapel.

ELYSIUM 273

remained to him to be accomplished before the complete
establishment of himself and his followers in Italy.
Wars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be
won, and in the result a Trojan state founded, from
which should rise the Roman power, to be in time the
sovereign of the world.

^neas and the Sibyl then took leave of Anchises, and
returned by some short cut, which the poet does not
explain, to the upper world.

ELYSIUM

Virgil, we have seen, places his Elysium under the
earth, and assigns it for a residence to the spirits of
the blessed. But in Homer Elysium forms no part of
the realms of the dead. He places it on the west of the
earth, near Ocean, and describes it as a happy land,
W'here there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and
always fanned by the delightful breezes of Zephyrus.
Hither favored heroes pass \vithout dying and live happy
under the rule of Rhadamanthus. The Elysium of
Hesiod and Pindar is in the Isles of the Blessed, or
Fortunate Islands, in the Western Ocean. From these
sprang the legend of the happy island Atlantis. This
blissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but
possibly may have sprung from the reports of some
storm-driven mariners who had caught a glimpse of the
coast of America.

J. R. Lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for
the present age some of the privileges of that happy
realm. Addressing the Past, he says :

"Whatever of true life there was in thee,
Leaps in our age's veins.

Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care,

Float the green 'Fortunate Isles,'
Where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share
Our martyrdoms and toils.
The present moves attended
With all of brave and excellent and fair
That made the old time splendid."

274 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Milton also alludes to the same fable in "Paradise
Lost," Book III., 1. 568:

"Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,
Fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales,
Thrice happy isles."

And in Book II. he characterizes the rivers of Erebus
xording
lansfuajje

according to the meaning of their names in the Greek

'Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate,
Sad Acheron of sorrow black and deep;
Cocytus named of lamentation loud
Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon
Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.
Far off from these a slow and silent stream,
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls
Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks
Forthwith his former state and being forgets,
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."

THE SIBYL

As ^neas and the Sibyl pursued their way back to
earth, he said to her, "Whether thou be a goddess or
a mortal beloved of the gods, by me thou shalt always
be held in reverence. When I reach the upper air I
will cause a temple to be built to thy honor, and will
myself bring offerings." "I am no goddess," said the
Sibyl; 'T have no claim to sacrifice or offering-.^_I^ anx-
mortal ; yet if I could have accepted the love oi Apollo^
I might have been immortal. He promised me tn^~faP
filment of my wish, if I would consent to be his. I
took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'Grant
me to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains
in my hand.' Unluckily I forgot to ask for enduring
youth. This also he would have granted, could I have
accepted his love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed
me to grow old. My youth and youthful strength fled
long ago. I have lived seven hundred years, and to
equal the number of the sand grains I have still to see
three hundred springs and three hundred harvests. My
body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, I shall
be lost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future
ages will respect my sayings."

THE SIBYL 275

These concluding words of the Sibyl alluded to her
prophetic power. In her cave she was accustomed to
inscribe on leaves gathered from the trees the names
and fates of individuals. The leaves thus inscribed were
arranged in order within the cave, and might be con-
sulted by her votaries. But if perchance at the opening
of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves
the Sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the
oracle was irreparably lost.

The following legend of the Sibyl is fixed at a later
date. In the reign of one of the Tarquins there ap-
peared before the king a woman who offered him nine
books for sale. The king refused to purchase them,
whereupon the woman went away and burned three of
the books, and returning offered the remaining books
for the same price she had asked for the nine. The
king again rejected them; but when the woman, after
burning three books more, returned and asked for the
three remaining the same price which she had before
asked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he
purchased the books. They were found to contain the
destinies of the Roman state. They were kept in the
temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, preserved in a stone chest,
and allowed to be inspected only by especial officers ap-
pointed for that duty, who, on great occasions, consulted
them and interpreted their oracles to the people.

There were various Sibyls ; but the Cumaean Sibyl, of
whom Ovid and Virgil write, is the most celebrated of
them. Ovid's story of her life protracted to one thousand
years may be intended to represent the various Sibyls
as being only reappearances of one and the same in-
dividual.

Young, in the "Night Thoughts," alludes to the Sibyl.
Speaking of Worldly Wisdom, he says :

"If future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves,
Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss;
At the first blast it vanishes in air.

As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves.
The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare.
The price still rising as in number less."

276 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER XXXni

CAMILLA EVANDER NISUS AND EURYALUS MEZENTIUS

TURNUS

^NEAs, having parted from the Sibyl and rejoined
his fleet, coasted along the shores of Italy and cast anchor
in the mouth of the Tiber. The poet, having brought
his hero to this spot, the destined termination of his wan-
derings, invokes his Muse to tell him the situation of
things at that eventful moment. Latinus, third in descent
from Saturn, ruled the country. He was now old and
had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter,
Lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighbor-
ing chiefs, one of whom, Turnus, king of the Rutulians,
was favored by the wishes of her parents. But Latinus
had been warned in a dream by his father Faunus, that
the destined husband of Lavinia should come from a for-
eign land. From that union should spring a race destined
to subdue the world.

Our readers will remember that in the conflict with
the Harpies one of those half-human birds had threat-
ened the Trojans with dire sufferings. In particular she
predicted that before their wanderings ceased they
should be pressed by hunger to devour their tables. This
portent now came true; for as they took their scanty
meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard bis-
cuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their glean-
ings in the woods supplied. Having despatched the
latter they finished by eating the crusts. Seeing which,
the boy lulus said playfully, "See, we are eating our.
tables." ^.neas caught the words and accepted the omen.
"All hail, promised land!" he exclaimed, "this is our
home, this our country." He then took measures to find
out who were the present inhabitants of the land, and
who their rulers. A hundred chosen men were sent
to the village of Latinus, bearing presents and a re-
quest for friendship and alliance. They went and were
favorably received. Latinus immediately concluded that

OPENING THE GATES OF JANUS 277

the Trojan hero was no other than the promised son-in-
law announced by the oracle. He cheerfully granted
his alliance and sent back the messengers mounted on
steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and
friendly messages.

Juno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the Tro-
jans, felt her old animosity revive, summoned Alecto
from Erebus, and sent her to stir up discord. The Fury
first took possession of the queen, Amata, and roused
her to oppose in every way the new alliance. Alecto
then speeded to the city of Turnus, and assuming the
form of an old priestess, informed him of the^ arrival of
the foreigners and of the attempts of their prmce to rob
him of his bride. Next she turned her attention to the
camp of the Trojans. There she saw the boy lulus and
his companions amusing themselves with hunting. She
sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse
up from the thicket a tame stag, the favorite of Silvia,
the daughter of Tyrrheus, the king's herdsman. A javelin
from the hand of lulus wounded the animal, and he had
only strength left to run homewards, and died at his mis-
tress's feet. Her cries and tears roused her brothers and
the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came
to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. These
were protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were
finally driven back with the loss of two of their number.

These things were enough to rouse the storm of war,
and the queen, Turnus, and the peasants all urged the
old king to drive the strangers from the country. He
resisted as long as he could, but, finding his opposition
unavailing, finally gave way and retreated to his retire-
ment.

OPENING THE GATES OF JANUS

It was the custom of the country, when war was to
be undertaken, for the chief magistrate, clad in his robes
of office, with solemn pomp to open the gates of the
temple of Janus, which were kept shut as long as peace
endured. His people now urged the old king to perform
that solemn office, but he refused to do so. While they

278 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

contested, Juno herself, descending from the skies, smote
the doors with irresistible force, and burst them open.
Immediately the whole country was in a flame. The
people rushed from every side breathing nothing but
war.

Turnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined
as allies, chief of whom was Mezentius, a brave and able
soldier, but of detestable cruelty. He had been the chief
of one of the neighboring cities, but his people drove
him out. With him was joined his son Lausus, a gen-
erous youth, worthy of a better sire.

CAMILLA

Camilla, the favorite of Diana, a huntress and warrior,
after the fashion of the Amazons, came with her band
of mounted followers, including a select number of her
own sex, and ranged herself on the side of Turnus.
This maiden had never accustomed her fingers to the
distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils
of war, and in speed to outstrip the wind. It seemed as
if she might run over the standing corn without crushing
it, or over the surface of the water without dipping her
feet. Camilla's history had been singular from the begin-
ning. Her father, Metabus, driven from his city by civil
discord, carried with him in his flight his infant daughter.
As he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot pursuit,
he reached the bank of the river Amazenus, which,
swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage. He paused
for a moment, then decided what to do. He tied
the infant to his lance with wrappers of bark, and poising
the weapon in his upraised hand thi^ addressed Diana :
"Goddess of the woods! I consecrate this maid to you;"
then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite
bank. The spear flew across the roaring water. His
pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into
the river and swam across, and found the spear, with
the infant safe on the other side. Thenceforth he lived
among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in
woodland arts. While a child she was taught to use the
bow and throw the javelin. With her sling she could

EVANDER 279

bring down the crane or the wild swan. ' Her dress was a
tiger's skin. Many mothers sought her for a daughter-
in-law, but she continued faithful to Diana and repelled
the thought of marriage.

EVANDER

Such were the formidable allies that ranged them-
selves against ^neas. It was night and he lay stretched
m sleep on the bank of the river under the open heavens.
The god of the stream, Father Tiber, seemed to raise
his head above the willows and to say, "O goddess-born,
destined possessor of the Latin realms, this is the prom-
ised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate
the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faith-
fully persevere. There are friends not far distant. Pre-
pare your boats and row up my stream ; I will lead you
to Evander. the Arcadian chief, he has long been at
strife with Turnus and the Rutulians, and is pre-
pared to become an ally of yours. Rise ! offer your
vows to Juno, and deprecate her anger. When you have
achieved your victory then think of me." iEneas woke
and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision. He
sacrificed to Juno, and invoked the god of the river and
all his tributary fountains to lend their aid. Then for
the first time a vessel filled with armed warriors floated
on the stream of the Tiber. The river smoothed irs
waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled
by the vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot
rapidly up the stream.

About the middle of the day they came in sight of
the scattered buildings of the infant town, where in after
times the proud city of Rome grew, whose glory reached
the skies. By chance the old king, Evander, was that
day celebrating annual solemnities in honor of Hercules
and all the gods. Pallas, his son, and all the chiefs of
the little commonwealth stood by. When they saw the
tall ship gliding onward near the wood, they were
alarmed at the sight, and rose from the tables. Rut
Pallas forbade the solemnities to be interrupted, and
seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's bank.

280 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

He called aloud, demanding who they were, and what
their object, ^neas, holding forth an olive-branch,
replied, "We are Trojans, friends to you, and enemies
to the Rutulians. We seek Evander, and offer to join
our arms with yours." Pallas, in amaze at the sound of
so great a name, invited them to land, and when ^neas
touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in
friendly grasp. Proceeding through the wood, they
joined the king and his party and were most favorably
received. Seats were provided for them at the tables,
and the repast proceeded.

r

INFANT ROME

When the solemnities were ended all moved towards
the city. The king, bending with age, walked be-
tween his son and ^neas, taking the arm of one or the
other of them, and with much variety of pleasing talk
shortening the way. ^neas with delight looked and
listened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and
learning much of heroes renowned in ancient times.
Evander said, "These extensive groves were once in-
habited by fauns and nymphs, and a rude race of men
who sprang from the trees themselves, and had neither
laws nor social culture. They knew not how to yoke the
cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abun-
dance for future want ; but browsed like beasts upon the
leafy boughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey.
Such were they when Saturn, expelled from Olympus by
his sons, came among them and drew together the fierce
savages, formed them into society, and gave them laws.
Such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have
called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other
times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of
blood prevailed. The land was a prey to successive ty-
rants, till fortune and resistless destiny brought me
hither, an exile from my native land, Arcadia."

Having thus said, he showed him the Tarpeian rock,
and the rude spot then overgrown with bushes where in
after times the Capitol rose in all its magnificence. He
next pointed to some dismantled walls, and said, "Here

INFANT ROME 281

s^iood Janiculum, built by Janus, and there Saturnia, the
town of Saturn." Such discourse brought them to the
cottage of poor Evander, whence they saw the lowing
herds roaming over .the plain where now the proud and
stately Forum stands. They entered, and a couch was
spread for ^neas, well stuffed with leaves, and covered
with the skin of a Libyan bear.

Next morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill
song of birds beneath the eaves of his low mansion, old
Evander rose. Clad in a tunic, and a panther's skin
thrown over his shoulders, with sandals on his feet and
his good sword girded to his side, he went forth to seek
his guest. Two mastiffs followed him, his whole retinue
and body guard. He found the hero attended by his
faithful Achates, and, Pallas soon joining them, the old
king spoke thus :

"Illustrious Trojan, it is but little we can do in so
great a cause. Our state is feeble, hemmed in on one
side by the river, on the other by the Rutulians. But I
propose to ally you with a people numerous and rich, to
whom fate has brought you at the propitious moment.
The Etruscans hold the country beyond the river. Mezen-
tius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who invented
unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance. He
would fasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and
face to face, and leave the wretched victims to die in
that dreadful embrace. At length the people cast him
out, him and his house. They burned his palace and
slew his friends. He escaped and took refuge with
Turnus, who protects him with arms. The Etruscans
demand that he shall be given up to deserved punishment,
and would ere now have attempted to enforce their de-
mand ; but their priests restrain them, telling them that
it is the will of heaven that no native of the land shall
guide them to victory, and that th;.ir destined leader
must come from across the sea. They have offered the
crown to me, but I am too old to undertake such great
affairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him
from the choice. You, equally by birth and time of life,
and fame in arms, pointed out by the gods, have but to
appear to be hailed at once as their leader. With you

282 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

I will join Pallas, my son, my only hope and comfort.
Under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to
emulate your great exploits."

Then the king ordered horses to be furnished for
the Trojan chiefs, and ^neas, with a chosen band of
followers and Pallas accompanying, mounted and took
the way to the Etruscan city,^ having sent back the rest
of his party in the ships. /Eneas and his band safely ar-
rived at the Etruscan camp and were received with open
arms by Tarchon and his countrymen.

"NISUS AND EURYALUS

In the meanwhile Turnus had collected his bands and
made all necessary preparations for the war. Juno sent
Iris to him with a message inciting him to take advan-
tage of the absence of ^neas and surprise the Trojan
camp. Accordingly the attempt was made, but the Tro-
jans were found on their guard, and having received
strict orders from /Eneas not to fight in his absence, they
lay still in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts
of the Rutulians to draw them into the field. Night
coming on, the army of Turnus, in high spirits at their
fancied superiority, feasted and enjoyed themselves, and
finally stretched themselves on the field and slept secure.

In the camp of the Trojans things were far otherwise.
There all was watchfulness and anxiety and impatience
for /Eneas's return. Nisus stood guard at the entrance
of the camp, and Euryalus, a youth distinguished above
all in the army for graces of person and fine qualities,
was with him. These two were friends and brothers
in arms. Nisus said to his friemi, "Do you per-
ceive what confidence and carelessness the enemy dis-
play? Their lights are few and dim, and the men seem
all oppressed with wine or sleep. You know how anx-
iously our chiefs wish to send to ^neas, and to get intel-
ligence from him. Now, I am strongly moved to make
my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search

* The poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to imitate in its
sound the galloping of horses. It may be thus translated: "Then struck
the hoofs of the steeds on the ground with a four-footed trampling."
See Proverbial Expressions.

NISUS AND EURYALUS 283

of our chief. If I succeed, the glory of the deed will be
reward enough for me, and if they judge the service
deserves anything more, let them pay it to you."

Euryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, re-
plied, "Would you, then, Nisus, refuse to share your
enterprise with me? And shall I let you go into such
danger alone? Not so my brave father brought me up,
nor so have 1 planned for myself when I joined the
standard of ^neas, and resolved to hold my life cheap
in comparison with honor." Nisus replied, "I doubt it
not, my friend ; but you know the uncertain event of
such an undertaking, and whatever may happen to me, I
wish you to be safe. You are younger than I and have
more of life in prospect. Nor can I be the cause of such
grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the
camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with
the other matrons in Acestes' city." Euryalus replied,
"Say no more. In vain you seek arguments to dissuade
me. I am fixed in the resolution to go with you. Let us
lose no time." They called the guard, and committing
the watch to them, sought the general's tent. They
found the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how
they should send notice to ^neas of their situation. The
offer of the two friends was gladly accepted, themselves
loaded with praises and promised the most liberal re-
wards in case of success. lulus especially addressed
Euryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship. Eury-
alus replied, "I have but one boon to ask. My aged
mother is with me in the camp. For me she left the Trojan
soil, and would not stay behind with the other matrons
at the city of Acestes. I go now without taking leave of
her. I could not bear her tears nor set at nought her en-
treaties. But do thou, I beseech you, comfort her in her
distress. Promise me that and I shall go more boldly
into whatever dangers may present themselves." lulus
and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and prom-
ised to do all his request. "Your mother shall be mine,"
said lulus, "and all that I have promised to you shall be
made good to her, if you do not return to receive it."

The two friends left the camp and plunged at once
into the midst of the enemy. They found no watcii,

284 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

no sentinels posted, but, all about, the sleeping soldiers
strewn on the grass and among the wagons. The laws
of war at that early day did not forbid a brave man to
slay a sleeping foe, and the two Trojans slew, as they
passed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting
alarm. In one tent Euryalus made prize of a helmet
brilliant with gold and plumes. They had passed through
the enemy's ranks without being discovered, but now
suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them,
which, under Volscens, their leader, were approaching
the camp. The glittering helmet of Euryalus caught
their attention, and Volscens hailed the two, and de-
manded who and whence they were. They made no
answer, but plunged into the wood. The horsemen
scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. Nisus
had eluded pursuit and was out of danger, but Euryalus
being missing he turned back to seek him. He again en-
tered the wood and soon came within sound of voices.
Looking through the thicket he saw the whole band sur-
rounding Euryalus with noisy questions. What should
he do ? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to
die with him.

Raising his eyes to the moon, which now shone clear,
he said, "Goddess ! favor my effort !" and aiming his
javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him
in the back and stretched him on the plain with a death-
blow. In the midst of their amazement another weapon
flew and another of the party fell dead. Volscens, the
leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in
hand upon Euryalus. "You shall pay the penalty of
both," he said, and would have plugged the sword into
his bosom, when Nisus, who from his concealment saw
the peril of his friend, rushed forward exclaiming,
" 'Twas I, 'twas I ; turn your swords against me, Ru-
tulians, I did it; he only followed me as a friend." While
he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom
of Euryalus. His head fell over on his shoulder, like a
flower cut down by the plough. Nisus rushed upon
Volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and was
himself slain on the instant by numberless blows.

MEZENTIUS 285

MEZENTIUS

^neas, with his Etrurian allies, arrived on the scene
of action in time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and
now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the
war began in good earnest. We cannot find space for
all the details, but must simply record the fate of the
principal characters whom Ave have introduced to our
readers. The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged
against his revolting subjects, raged like a wild beast.
He slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the
multitude to flight wherever he appeared. At last he
encountered ^neas, and the armies stood still to see
the issue. Mezentius threw his spear, which striking
^neas's shield glanced ofl:' and hit Author. He was a
Grecian by birth, who had left Argos, his native city,
and followed Evander into Italy. The poet says of him
with simple pathos which has made the words proverbial,
"He fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another,
looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet
Argos. "^ ^neas now in turn hurled his lance. It
pierced the shield of Mezentius, and wounded him in
the thigh. Lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but
rushed forward and interposed himself, while the fol-
lowers pressed round Mezentius and bore him away,
^neas held his sword suspended over Lausus and de-
layed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he
was compelled to deal the fatal blow. Lausus fell, and
^neas bent over him in pity. "Hapless youth," he said,
"what cari, I do for you worthy of your praise? Keep
those arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your
body shall be restored to your friends, and have due
funeral honors." So saying, he called the timid follow-
ers and delivered the body into their hands.

Mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the riverside,
and washed his wound. Soon the news reached him of
Lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the place
of strength. He mounted his horse and dashed into the
thickest of the fight, seeking ^neas. Having found him,

* See Proverbial Expressions.

286 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin after
another, while ^neas stood fenced with his shield, turn-
ing every way to meet them. At last, after Mezentius
had three times made the circuit, ^neas threw his lance
directly at the horse's head. It pierced his temples and
he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the skies.
Mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might
be spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be
buried in the same grave with his son. He received the
fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and
his blood togfether.

^t3^

PALLAS^ CAMILLA^ TURNUS

While these things were doing in one part of the field,
in another Turnus encountered the youthful Pallas. The
contest between champions so unequally matched could
not be doubtful. Pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by
the lance of Turnus. The victor almost relented when
he saw the brave youth lying dead at his feet, and spared
to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of
his arms. The belt only, adorned with studs and carv-
ings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body.
The rest he remitted to the friends of the slain.

After the battle there was a cessation of arms for
some days to allow both armies to bury their dead. In
this interval ^neas challenged Turnus to decide the con-
test by single combat, but Turnus evaded the challenge.
Another battle ensued, in which Camilla, the virgin war-
rior, was chiefly conspicuous. Her ^eeds of valor sur-
passed those of the bravest warriors', and many Trojans
and Etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down
by her battle-axe. At last an Etruscan named Aruns,
who had watched her long, seeking for some advantage,
observed her pursuing a flying enemy whose splendid
armor offered a tempting prize. Intent on the chase
she observed not her danger, and the javelin of Aruns
struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. She fell and
breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens.
But Diana, who beJneld her fate, suffered not her
slaughter to be unavenged. Aruns, as he stole away,

PALLAS, CAMILLA, TURNUS 287

glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow,
launched by one of the nymphs of Diana's train, and
died ignobly and unknown.

At length the final conflict took place between ^neas
and Turnus. Turnus had avoided the contest as long as
he could, but at last, impelled by the ill success of his
arms and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced
himself to the conflict. It could not be doubtful. On
the side of ^neas were the expressed decree of destiny,
the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and
impenetrable arm.or fabricated by Vulcan, at her request,
for her son. Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted
by his celestial allies, Juno having been expressly for-
bidden by Jupiter to assist him any longer. Turnus
threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield
of ^neas. The Trojan hero then threw his, which pene-
trated the shield of Turnus, and pierced his thigh. Then
Turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy;
and ^neas would have given him his life, but at the in-
stant his eye fell on the belt of Pallas, which Turnus had
taken from the slaughtered youth. Instantly his rage
revived, and exclaiming, "Pallas immolates thee with
this blow," he thrust him through with his sword.

Here the poem of the "/Eneid" closes, and we are
left to infer that yEneas, having triumphed over his foes,
obtained Lavinia for his bride. Tradition adds that he
founded his city, and called it after her name, Lavin-
ium. His son lulus founded Alba Longa, which was the
birthplace of Romulus and Remus and the cradle of

Rome itself.

>

There is an allusion to Camilla in those well-known
lines of Pope, in which, illustrating the rule that "the
sound should be an echo to the sense," he says :

"When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The Hne too labors and the words move slow.
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main."

Essay on Criticism.

288 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER XXXIV

PYTHAGORAS EGYPTIAN DEITIES ORACLES

PYTHAGORAS

The teachings of Anchises to ^neas, respecting the
nature of the human soul, were in conformity with the
doctrines of the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras (born five
hundred and forty years B.C.) was a native of the
island of Samos, but passed the chief portion of his
life at Crotona in Italy. He is therefore sometimes
called "the Samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of
Crotona." When young he travelled extensively, and
it is said visited Egypt, where he was instructed by the
priests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed
to the East, and visited the Persian and Chaldean Magi,
and the Brahmins of India.

At Crotona, where he finally established himself, his
extraordinary qualities collected round him a great num-
ber of disciples. The inhabitants were notorious for
luxury and licentiousness, but the good efifects of his
influence were soon visible. Sobriety and temperance
succeeded. Six hundred of the inhabitants became his
disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each
other in the pursuit of wisdom, uniting their prop-
erty in one common stock for the benefit of the whole.
They were required to practise the greatest purity and
simplicity of manners. The first lesson they learned
was silence; for a time they were 4equired to be only
hearers. "He [Pythagoras] said so" (Ipse dixit), was
to be held by them as sufficient, without any proof. It
was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient
submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to
state objections.

Pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and
principle of all things, and attributed to them a real and
distinct existence ; so that, in his view, they were the
elements out of which the universe was constructed.

PYTHAGORAS 289

How he conceived this process has never been satis-
factorily explained. ' He traced the various forms and
phenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and
essence. The "Monad" or unit he regarded as the
source of all numbers. The number Tzvo was imper-
fect, and the cause of increase and division. Three was
called the number of the whole because it had a be-
ginning, middle, and end. Foiir, representing the square,
is in the highest degree perfect ; and Ten, as it contains
the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all
musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the
system of the world.

As the numbers proceed from the monad, so he re-
garded the pure and simple essence of the Deity as the
source of all the forms of nature. Gods, demons, and
heroes are emanations of the Supreme, and there is a
fourth emanation, the human soul. This is immortal,
and when freed from the fetters of the body passes to
the habitation of the dead, where it remains till it re-
turns to the world, to dwell in some other human or
animal body, and at last, when sufficiently purified, it
returns to the source from which it proceeded. This
doctrine of the transmigration of souls (metempsycho-
sis), which was originally Egyptian and connected with
the doctrine of reward and punishment of human ac-
tions, was the chief cause why the Pythagoreans killed
no animals. Ovid represents Pythagoras addressing his
disciples in these words: "Souls never die, but always
on quitting one abode pass to another. I myself can
remember that in the time of the Trojan war I was
Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the spear
of Menelaus. Lately being in the temple of Juno, at
Argos, I recognized my shield hung up there among
the trophies. All things change, nothing perishes. The
soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body,
now that, passing from the body of a beast into that
of a man, and thence to a beast's again. As wax is
stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped
anew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the
soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different
times, different forms. Therefore, if the love of kin-

290 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

dred is not Q^ctinct in your bosoms, forbear, I entreat
you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your
own relatives."

Shakspeare, in the "Merchant of Venice," makes
Gratiano allude to the metempsychosis, where he says
to Shylock :

"Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men ; thy currish spirit

Governed a wolf ; who hanged for human slaughter
Infused his soul in thee; for thy desires
Are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous."

The relation of the notes of the musical scale to
numbers, whereby harmony results from vibrations in
equal times, and discord from the reverse, led Pythag-
oras to apply the word "harmony" to the visible crea-
tion, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to each
other. This is the idea which Dryden expresses in the
beginning of his "Song for St. Cecilia's Day" :

"From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This everlasting frame began;
From harmony to harmony
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The Diapason closing full in Man."

In the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a
central fire, the principle of life. The central fire was
surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the
five planets. The distances of th^e various heavenly
bodies from one another were conceived to correspond
to the proportions of the musical scale. The heavenly
bodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were sup-
posed to perform a choral dance round the central fire,
"not without song." It is this doctrine which Shak-
speare alludes to when he makes Lorenzo teach astron-
omy to Jessica in this fashion :

"Look, Jessica, see how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold!

I

PYTHAGORAS 291

There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings.
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim;
Such harmony is in immortal souls !
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it."

Merchant of Venice.

The spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy
fabrics arranged over one another like a nest of bowls
reversed. In the substance of each sphere one or more
of the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as
to move with it. As the spheres are transparent we
look through them and see the heavenly bodies which
they contain and carry round with them. But as these
spheres cannot move on one another without friction,
a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite har-
mony, too fine for mortal ears to recognize. Milton, in
his "Hymn on the Nativity," thus alludes to the music
of the spheres :

"Ring out, ye crystal spheres !
Once bless our human ears

(If ye have power to charm our senses so) ;
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time,

And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full concert with the angelic symphony."

Pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. Our
own poet Longfellow, in "Verses to a Child," thus re-
lates the story :

"As great Pythagoras of yore.
Standing beside the blacksmith's door,
And hearing the hammers as they smote
The anvils with a different note,
Stole from the varying tones that hung
Vibrant on every iron tongue,
The secret of the sounding wire.
And formed the seven-chorded lyre."

See also the same poet's "Occultation of Orion"
"The Samian's great ^olian lyre."

292 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

SYBARIS AND CROTONA

Sybaris, a neighboring city to Crotona, was as cele-
brated for luxury and effeminacy as Crotona for the
reverse. The name has become proverbial. J. R.
Lowell uses it in this sense in his charming little poem
"To the Dandelion":

"Not in mid June the golden cuirassed bee
Feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment

In the white lily's breezy tent
(His conquered Sybaris) than I when first
From the dark green thy yellow circles burst."

A war arose between the two cities, and Sybaris was
conquered and destroyed. Milo, the celebrated athlete,
led the army of Crotona. Many stories are told of
Milo's vast strength, such as his carrying a heifer of
four years old upon his shoulders and afterwards eat-
ing the whole of it in a single day. The mode of his
death is thus related: As he was passing through a
forest he saw the trunk of a tree which had been par-
tially split open by wood-cutters, and attempted to rend
it further; but the wood closed upon his hands and held
him fast, in which state he was attacked and devoured
by wolves.

Byron, in his "Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte," alludes
to the story of Milo :

"He who of old would rend the oak
Deemed not of the rebound;
Chained by the trunk he vainly broke,
Alone, how looked he roij^d !"

EGYPTIAN DEITIES

The Egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity
Amun, afterwards called Zeus, or Jupiter Ammon.
Amun manifested himself in his word or will, which
created Kneph and Athor, of different sexes. From
Kneph and Athor proceeded Osiris and Isis. Osiris was
worshipped as the god of the sun, the source of warmth,

MYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS 293

life, and fruitfulness, in addition to which he was also
regarded as the god of the Nile, who annually visited
his wife, Isis (the Earth), by means of an inundation.
Serapis or Hermes is sometimes represented as identical
with Osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity, the
ruler of Tartarus and god of medicine. Anubis is the
guardian god, represented with a dog's head, emblematic
of his character of fidelity and watchfulness. Horus or
Harpocrates was the son of Osiris. He is represented
seated on a Lotus flower, with his finger on his lips, as
the god of Silence.

In one of Moore's "Irish Melodies" is an allusion to
Harpocrates :

"Thyself shall, under some rosy bower,
Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip;

Like him, the boy, who born among

The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush,

Sits ever thus, his only song
To Earth and Heaven, 'Hush all, hush!'"

MYTH OF CSIRIS AND ISIS

Osiris and Isis were at one time induced to descend
to the earth to bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabi-
tants. Isis showed them first the use of wheat and
barley, and Osiris made the instruments of agriculture
and taught men the use of them, as well as how to
harness the ox to the plough. He then gave men laws,
the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and
taught them how to worship the gods. After he had
thus made the valley of the Nile a happy country,
he assembled a host with which he went to bestow his
blessings upon the rest of the world. He conquered the
nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only with
music and eloquence. His brother Typhon saw this,
and filled with envy and malice sought during his ab-
sence to usurp his throne. But Isis, who held the reins
of government, frustrated his plans. Still more em-
bittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. This he
did in the following manner: Having organized a con-
spiracy of seventy-two members, he went with them

294 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

to the feast which was celebrated in honor of the king's
return. He then caused a box or chest to be brought
in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of Osiris,
and declared that he would give that chest of precious
wood to whosoever could get into it. The rest tried
in vain, but no sooner was Osiris in it than Typhon and
his companions closed the lid and flung the chest into
the Nile. When Isis heard of the cruel murder she
wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn, clothed
in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently
for the body of her husband. In this search she was
materially assisted by Anubis, the son of Osiris and
Nephthys. They sought in vain for some time ; for
when the chest, carried by the waves to the shores of
Byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew
at the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in
the body of Osiris imparted such strength to the shrub
that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing in its trunk
the coffin of the god. This tree with its sacred deposit
was. shortly after felled, and erected as a column in
the palace of the king of Phoenicia. But at length by
the aid of Anubis and the sacred birds. Isis ascertained
these facts, and then went to the royal city. There she
offered herself at the palace as a servant, and being
admitted, threw off her disguise and appeared as a
goddess, surrounded with thunder and lightning. Strik-
ing the column with her wand she caused it to split open
and give up the sacred coffin. This she seized and re-
turned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest,
but Typhon discovered it, and cutting the body into
fourteen pieces scattered them hither and thither. After
a tedious search, Isis found thirteen pieces, the fishes
of the Nile having eaten the other. This she replaced
by an imitation of sycamore wood, and buried the body
^ at Philae, which became ever after the great burying
Vp^' place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages
were made from all parts of the country. A temple
of surpassing magnificence was also erected there in
honor of the god, and at every place where one of his
limbs had been found minor temples and tombs were
built to commemorate the event. Osiris became after

MYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS 295

that the tutelar deity of the Egyptians. His soul was
supposed always to inhabit the body of the bull Apis,
and at his death to transfer itself to his successor.

Apis, the Bull of Memphis, was worshipped with the
greatest reverence by the Egyptians. The individual
animal who was held to be Apis was recognized by
certain signs. It was requisite that he should be quite
black, have a white square mark on the forehead, an-
other, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under
his tongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scara-
baeus or beetle. As soon as a bull thus marked was
found by those sent in search of him, he was placed in
a building facing the east, and was fed with milk for
four months. At the expiration of this term the priests
repaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habita-
tion and saluted him Apis. He was placed in a vessel
magnificently decorated and conveyed down the Nile to
Memphis, where a temple, with two chapels and a court
for exercise, was assigned to him. Sacrifices were made
to him, and once every year, about the time when the
Nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the
river, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his
birthday. The people believed that during this festival
the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became
harmless. There was, however, one drawback to his
happy lot : he was not permitted to live beyond a cer-
tain period, and if, when he had attained the age of
twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned
him in the sacred cistern and then buried him in the
temple of Serapis. On the death of this bull, whether it
occurred in the course of nature or by violence, the
whole land was filled with sorrow and lamentations,
which lasted until his successor was found.

We find the following item in one of the newspapers
of the day:

"The Tomb of Apis. The excavations going on at
Memphis bid fair to make that buried city as interesting
as Pompeii. The monster tomb of Apis is now open,
after having lain unknown for centuries."

Milton, in his "Hymn on the Nativity," alludes to

296 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

the Egyptian deities, not as imaginary beings, but as
real demons, put to flight by the coming of Christ.

"The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Isis and Horus and the dog Anubis haste.

Nor is Osiris seen

In Memphian grove or green
Trampling the i unshowered grass with lowings loud;

Nor can he be at rest

Within his sacred chest ;
Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud.

In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark."

Isis was represented in statuary with the head veiled,
a symbol of mystery. It is this which Tennyson al-
ludes to in "Maud," IV., 8:

"For the drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis hid by the veil," etc.

ORACLES

Oracle was the name used to denote the place where
answers were supposed to be given by any of the
divinities to those who consulted them respecting the
future. The word was also used to signify the re-
sponse which was given.

The most ancient Grecian oracle was that of Jupiter
at Dodona. According to one account, it was estab-
lished in the following manner: Two black doves took
their flight from Thebes in Egypt. One flew to Dodona
in Epirus, and alighting in a grove of oaks, it pro-
claimed in human language to the inhabitants of the
district that they must establish thep6 an oracle of Jupi-
ter. The other dove flew to the temple of Jupiter
Ammon in the Libyan Oasis, and delivered a similar
command there. Another account is, that they were not
doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from
Thebes in Egypt by the Phoenicians, and set up oracles
at the Oasis and Dodona. The responses of the oracle

* There being no rain in Egypt, the grass is "unshowered," and the
country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of the Nile. The
ark alludea to in the last line is shown by pictures still remaining on the
walls of the Egyptian temples to have been borne by the priests in their
religious processions. It probably represented the chest in which Ositis
was placed.

ORACLE OF TROPHONIUS 297

were given from the trees, by the branches rustling in
the wind, the sounds being interpreted by the priests.

But the most celebrated of the Grecian oracles was
that of Apollo at Delphi, a city built on the slopes of
Parnassus in Phocis.

It had been observed at a very early period that the
goats feeding on Parnassus were thrown into convul-
sions when they approached a certain long deep cleft
in the side of the mountain. This was owing to a
peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of
the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon him-
self. Inhaling the intoxicating air, he was affected in
the same manner as the cattle had been, and the in-
habitants of the surrounding country, unable to explain
the_ circumstance, imputed the convulsive ravings to
which he gave utterance while under the power of the
exhalations to a divine inspiration. The fact was speed-
ily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the
spot. The prophetic influence was at first variously
attributed to the goddess Earth, to Neptune, Themis,
and others, but it was at length assigned to Apollo, and
to him alone. A priestess was appointed whose office
it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who was named
the Pythia. She was prepared for this duty by previ-
ous ablution at the fountain of Castalia, and being
crowned with laurel was seated upon a tripod similarly
adorned, which was placed over the chasm whence the
divine afflatus proceeded. Her inspired words while
thus situated were interpreted by the priests.

ORACLE OF TROPHONIUS

Besides the oracles of Jupiter and Apollo, at Dodona
and Delphi, that of Trophonius in Bceotia was held in
high estimation. Trophonius and Agamedes were
i)rothers. They were distinguished architects, and built
the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and a treasury for King
Hyrieus. In the wall of the treasury they placed a
stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and
by this means, from time to time, purloined tlie treasure.
This amazed tlyrieus, for his locks and seals were un-

298 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

touched, and yet his wealth continually diminished. At
length he set a trap for the thief and Agamedes was
caught. Trophonius, unable to extricate him, and fear-
ing that when found he would be compelled by torture
to discover his accomplice, cut off his head. Trophonius
himself is said to have been shortly afterwards swal-
lowed up by the earth.

The oracle of Trophonius was at Lebadea in Boeotia.
During a great drought the Boeotians, it is' said, were
directed by the god at Delphi to seek aid of Tropho-
nius at Lebadea. They came thither, but could find
no oracle. One of them, however, happening to see a
swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth,
which proved to be the place sought.

Peculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the
person who came to consult the oracle. After these
preliminaries, he descended into the cave by a narrow
passage. This place could be entered only in the night.
The person returned from the cave by. the same nar-
row passage, but walking backwards. He appeared mel-
ancholy and dejected; and hence the proverb which was
applied to a person low-spirited and gloomy, "He has
been consulting the oracle of Trophonius."

ORACLE OF ^SCULAPTUS

There were numerous oracles of -^sculapius, but the
most celebrated one was at Epidaurus. Here the sick
sought responses and the recovery of their health by
sleeping in the temple. It has been inferred from the
accounts that have come down to us that the treatment
of the sick resembled what is now/called Animal Mag-
netism or Mesmerism.

Serpents were sacred to ^sculapius, probably be-
cause of a superstition that those animals have a faculty
of renewing their youth by a change of skin. The wor-
ship of ^sculapius was introduced into Rome in a time
of great sickness, and an embassy sent to the temple of
Epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god. vEsculapius
was propitious, and on the return of the ship accom-
panied it in the form of a serpent. Arriving in the

ORACLE OF APIS 299

river Tiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took
possession of an island in the river, and a temple was
there erected to his honor.

ORACLE OF APIS

At Memphis the sacred bull Apis gave answer to those
who consulted him by the manner in which he received
or rejected what was presented to him. If the bull
refused food from the hand of the inquirer it was con-
sidered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary when he
received it.

It has been a question whether oracular responses
ought to be ascribed to mere human contrivance or to
the agency of evil spirits. The latter opinion has been
most general in past ages. A third theory has been
advanced since the phenomena of Mesmerism have at-
tracted attention, that something like the mesmeric
trance was induced in the Pythoness, and the faculty
of clairvoyance really called into action.

Another question is as to the time when the Pagan
oracles ceased to give responses. Ancient Christian
writers assert that they became silent at the birth of
Christ, and were heard no more after that date. Milton
adopts this view in his "Hymn on the Nativity," and
in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the
consternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the
Saviour :

"The oracles are dumb;
No voice or hideous hum

Rings through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance or breathed spell
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell."

In Cowper's poem of "Yardley Oak" there are some
beautiful mythological allusions. The former of the
two following is to the fable of Castor and Pollux ; the
latter is more appropriate to our present subject. Ad-
dressing the acorn he says :

300 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"Thou f ell'st mature ; and in the loamy clod,
Swelling with vegetative force instinct,
Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled Twins
Now stars ; two lobes protruding, paired exact ;
A leaf succeeded and another leaf,
And, all the elements thy puny growth
Fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig.
Who lived when thou wast such? O, couldst thou speak,
As in Dodona once thy kindred trees
Oracular, I would not curious ask
The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth
Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past."

Tennyson, in his "Talking Oak," alludes to the oaks
of Dodona in these lines :

"And I will work in prose and rhyme,

And praise thee more in both
Than bard has honored beech or lime,

Or that Thessalian growth
In which the swarthy ring-dove sat

And mystic sentence spoke;" etc.

Byron alludes to the oracle of. Delphi where, speaking
of Rousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to
bring on the French revolution, he says :

"For then he was inspired, and from him came.
As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore,
Those oracles which set the world in flame,
Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more."

CHAPTER XXXV

/

ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY STATUES OF GODS AND GODDESSES

POETS OF MYTHOLOGY

ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY

Having reached the close of our series of stories of
Pagan mythology, an inquiry suggests itself. "Whence
came these stories? Have they a foundation in truth,
or are they simply dreams of the imagination?" Phi-
losophers have suggested various theories on the sub-

ORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY 301

ject; and 1. The Scriptural theory; according to which
all mythological legends are derived from the narratives
of Scripture, though the real facts have been disguised
and altered. Thus Deucalion is only another name for
Noah, Hercules for Samson, Arion for Jonah, etc. Sir
Walter Raleigh, in his "History of the World," says,
"Jubal, Tubal, and Tubal-Cain were Mercury, Vulcan,
and Apoll o^ inventors of Pasturage, Smithing, and Mu-
sic. TheDragon which kept the golden apples was the
serpent that beguiled Eve. Nimrod's tower was the
attempt of the Giants against Heaven." There are doubt-
less many curious coincidences like these, but the theory
cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to ac-
count' for any great proportion of the stories.

2. The Historical theory; according to which all the
persons mentioned in mythology were once real human
beings, and the legends and fabulous traditions relating
to them are merely the additions and embellishments of
later times. Thus the story of ^olus, the king and god
of the winds, is supposed to have risen from the fact
that ^olus v^as the ruler of some islands in the Tyrrhe-
nian Sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king,
and taught the natives the use of sails for ships, and
how to tell from the signs of the atmosphere the changes
of the weather and the winds. Cadmus, who, the legend
says, sowed the earth with dragon's teeth, from which
sprang a crop of armed men, was in fact an emigrant
from Phoenicia, and brought with him into Greece the
knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught
to the natives. From these rudiments of learning
sprung civilization, which the poets hav always been
prone to describe as a deterioration of man's first estate,
the Golden Age of innocence and simplicity.

3. The Allegorical theory supposes that all the myths
of the ancients were allegorical and symbolical, and con-
tained some moral, religious, or philosophical truth or
historical fact, under the form of an allegory, but came
in process of time to be understood literally. Thus Sat-
urn, who devours his own children, is the same power
whom the Greeks called Cronos (Time), which may
truly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into

302 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

existence. The story of lo is interpreted in a similar
manner. lo is the moon, and Argus the starry sky,
which, as it were, keeps sleepless watch over her. The
fabulous wanderings of lo represent the continual rev-
olutions of the moon, which also suggested to Milton
the same idea.

"To behold the wandering moon
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led astray
In the heaven's wide, pathless way."

// Penseroso.

4. The Physical theory; according to which the ele-
ments of air, fire, and water were originally the objects
of religious adoration, and the principal deities were
personifications of the powers of nature. The tran-
sition was easy from a personification of the elements
to the notion of supernatural beings presiding over and
governing the different objects of nature. The Greeks,
whose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with
invisible beings, and supposed that every object, from
the sun and sea to the smallest fountain and rivulet, was
under the care of some particular divinity. Words-
v/orth, in his "Excursion," has beautifully developed
this view of Grecian mythology:

"In that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched
On the soft grass through half a summer's day,
With music lulled his indolent repose ;
And, in some fit of weariness, if he.
When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear
A distant strain far sweeter than the sounds
Which his poor skill could make, kis fancy fetched
Even from the blazing chariot of' the Sun
A beardless youth who touched a golden lute,
And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.
The mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes
Toward the crescent Moon, with grateful heart
Called on the lovely Wanderer who bestowed
That timely light to share his joyous sport;
And hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs
Across the lawn and through the darksome grove
(Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes
By echo multiplied from rock or cave) -
Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars

THE OLYMPIAN JUPITER 303

Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven

When winds are blowing strong. The Traveller slaked

His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked

The Naiad. Sunbeams upon distant hills

Gliding apace with shadows in their train,

Might with small help from fancy, be transformed

Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.

The Zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings.

Lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed

With gentle whisper. W'ithered boughs grotesque.

Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,

From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth

In the low vale, or on steep mountain side;

And sometimes intermixed with stirring horns

Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard;

These were the lurking Satyrs, a vild brood

Of gamesome deities; or Pan himself,

That simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god."

All the theories which have been mentioned are true
to a certain extent. It would therefore be more cor-
rect to say that the mythology of a nation has sprung
from all these sources combined than from any one in
particular. We may add also that there are many
myths which have arisen from the desire of man to ac-
count for those, natural phenomena which he cannot
tinderstand ; and not a few have had their rise from a
similar desire of giving a reason for the names of places
and persons.

STATUES OF THE GODS

To adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended
to be conveyed to the mind under the several names of
deities was a task which called into exercise the high-
est powers of genius and art. Of the many attempts
four have been most celebrated, the first two known to
us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others
still extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the
sculptor's art.

THE OLYMPIAN JUPITER

The statue of the Olympian Jupiter by Phidias was
considered the highest achievement of this department
of (Irecian art. It was of colossal dimensions, and was

304 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

what the ancients called "chryselephantine ;" that is,
composed of ivory and gold; the parts representing flesh
being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone, while
the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. The
height of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve
feet high. The god was represented seated on his
throne. His brows were crowned with a wreath of
olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in
his left a statue of Victory. The throne was of cedar,
adorned with gold and precious stones.

The idea which the artist essayed to embody was that
of the supreme deity of the Hellenic (Grecian) nation,
enthroned as a conqueror, in perfect majesty and re-
pose, and ruling with a nod the subject world. Phidias
avowed that he took his idea from the representation
which Homer gives in the first book of the "Iliad," in
the passage thus translated by Pope :

"He spoke and awful bends his sable brows,
Shakes his 'mbrosial curls and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate and sanction of the god.
High heaven with reverence the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook." ^

THE MINERVA OF THE PARTHENON

This was also the work of Phidias. It stood in thq
Parthenon, or temple of Minerva at Athens. The god-
dess was represented standing. In one hand she held a
spear, in the other a statue of Victory. Her helmet,
highly decorated, was surmounted by a Sphinx. The
statue was forty feet in height, and, like the Jupiter,
composed of ivory and gold. The eyes were of marble,
and probably painted to represent xhe iris and pupil.

* Cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original:

"He ceased, and under his dark brows the nod
Vouchsafed of confirmation. All around
The sovereign's everlasting head his curls
Ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled."

It may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in another
famous version, that which was issued under the name of Tickell, con-
temporaneously with Pope's, and which, being by many attributed to
Addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between Addison and Pope:

"This said, his kingly brow the sire inclined;
The large black curls fell awful from, behind.
Thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god;
Olympus trembled at the almighty nod."

I

THE VENUS DE' MEDICI 305

The Parthenon, in which this statue stood, was also
constructed under the direction and superintendence of
Phidias. Its exterior was enriched with sculptures,
many of them from the hand of Phidias. The Elgin
marbles, now in the British Museum, are a part of
them.

Both the Jupiter and Minerva of Phidias are lost,
but there is good ground to believe that we have, in
several extant statues and busts, the artist's concep-
tions of the countenances of both. They are character-
ized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from
any transient expression, which in the language of art
is called repose.

THE VENUS DE' MEDICI

The Venus of the Medici is so called from its hav-
ing been in the possession of the princes of that name
in Rome when it first attracted attention, about two
hundred years ago. An inscription on the base records
it to be the work of Cleomenes, an Athenian sculptor
of 200 B.C., but the authenticity of the inscription is
doubtful. There is a story that the artist was employed
by public authority to make a statue exhibiting the per-
fection of female beauty, and to aid him in his task the
most perfect forms the city could supply were furnished
him for models. It is this which Thomson alludes to
in his "Summer" :

"So stands the statue that enchants the world;
So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
The mingled beauties of exulting Greece."

Byron also alludes to this statue. Speaking of the
Florence Museum, he says :

"There, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills
The air around with beauty;" etc.

And in the next stanza,

"Blood, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan shepherd's prize."

See this last allusion explained in Chapter XXVII.

306 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

THE APOLLO BELVEDERE

The most highly esteemed of all the remains of an-
cient sculpture is the statue of Apollo, called the Belve-
dere, from the name of the apartment of the Pope's
palace at Rome in which it was placed. The artist
is unknown. It is supposed to be a work of Roman
art, of about the first century of our era. It is a stand-
ing figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked
except for the cloak which is fastened around the neck
and hangs over the extended left arm. It is supposed
to represent the god in the moment when he has shot
the arrow to destroy the monster Python. (See Chapter
III.) The victorious divinity is in the act of step-
ping forward. The left arm, which seems to have held
the bow, is outstretched, and the head is turned in the
same direction. In attitude and proportion the graceful
majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. The effect is com-
pleted by the countenance, where on the perfection of
youthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness
of triumphant power.

THE DIANA A LA BICHE

The Diana of the Hind, in the palace of the Louvre,
may be considered the counterpart to the Apollo Belve-
dere. The attitude much resembles that of the Apollo,
the sizes correspond and also the style of execution.
It is a work of the highest order, though by no means
equal to the Apollo. The attitude is that of hurried and
eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the ex-
citement of the chase. The left hand is extended over
the forehead of the Hind, which runs by her side, the
right arm reaches backward over the shoulder to draw
an arrow from the quiver.

THE POETS OF MYTHOLOGY

Homer, from whose poems of the "Iliad" and "Odys-
sey" we have taken the chief part of our chapters of
the Trojan war and the return of the Grecians, is

VIRGIL 307

almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he cele-
brates. The traditionary story is that he was a wander-
ing minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to
place, singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the
courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and de-
pendent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for
support. Byron calls him ''The blind old man of Scio's
rocky isle," and a well-known epigram, alluding to the
uncertaint}' of the fact of his birthplace, says :

"Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead,
Through which the living Homer begged his bread.'*

These seven were Smyrna, Scio, Rhodes, Colophon,
Salamis, Argos, and Athens.

Modern scholars have doubted whether the Homeric
poems are the work of any single mind. This arises
from the difficulty of believing that poems of such
length could have been committed to writing at so early
an age as that usually assigned to these, an age earlier
than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins,
and when no materials capable of containing such long
productions were yet introduced into use. On the other
hand it is asked how poems of such length could have
been handed down from age to age by means of the
memory alone. This is answered by the statement that
there was a professional body of men, called Rhap-
sodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose
business it was to commit to memory and rehearse for
pay the national and patriotic legends.

The prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time,
seems to be that the framework and much of the struc-
ture of the poems belong to Homer, but that there are
numerous interpolations and additions by other hands.

The date assigned to Homer, on the authority of
Herodotus, is 850 B.C.

VIRGIL

Virgil, called also by his surname, Maro. from whose
poem of the "y^,neid" we have taken the story of /Eneas,
was one of the great poets who made the reign of the

308 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Roman emperor Augustus so celebrated, under the name
of the Augustan age. Virgil was born in Mantua in the
year 70 B.C. His great poem is ranked next to those
of Homer, in the highest class of poetical composition,
the Epic. Virgil is far inferior to Homer in originality
and invention, but superior to him in correctness and
elegance. To critics of English lineage Milton alone
of modern poets seems worthy to be classed with these
illustrious ancients. His poem of "Paradise Lost," from
which we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many
respects equal, in some superior, to either of the great
works of antiquity. The following epigram of Dryd.n
characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is
usual to find in such pointed criticism:

"On Milton

"Three poets in three different ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of soul surpassed,
The next in majesty, in both the last.
The force of nature could no further go;
To make a third she joined the other two."

From Cowper's "Table Talk" :

"Ages elapsed ere Homer^s lamp appeared,
And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard.
To carry nature lengths unknown before.
To give a Milton birth, asked ages more.
Thus genius rose and set at ordered times,
And shot a dayspring into distant climes.
Ennobling every region that he chose;
He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose,
And, tedious years of Gothic darl^ess past,
Emerged all splendor in our isle at last.
Thus lovely Halcyons dive into the main.
Then show far off their shining plumes again."

Ovid,

often alluded to in poetry by his other name of Naso,
was born in the year 43 B.C. He was educated for
public life and held some offices of considerable dignity,
but poetry was his delight, and he early resolved to de-
vote himself to it. He accordingly sought the societ)

OVID 309

of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with
Horace and saw Virgil, though the latter died when
Ovid was yet too young and undistinguished to have
formed his acquaintance. Ovid spent an easy life at
Rome in the enjoyment of a competent income. He was
intimate with the family of Augustus, the emperor, and
it is supposed that some serious offence given to some
member of that family was the cause of an event which
reversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all
the latter portion of his life. At the age of fifty he
was banished from Rome, and ordered to betake him-
self to Tomi, on the borders of the Black Sea. Here,
among the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the
poet, who had been accustomed to all the pleasures of a
luxurious capital and the society of his most distin-
guished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his
life, worn out with grief and anxiety. His only con-
solation in exile was to address his wife and absent
friends, and his letters were all poetical. Though these
poems (the "Trista" and "Letters from Pontus'") have
no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his exquisite
taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from
the charge of being tedious, and they are read with
pleasure and even with sympathy.

The two great works of Ovid are his "Metamor-
phoses" and his "Fasti." They are both mythological
poems, and from the former we have taken most of our
stories of Grecian and Roman mythology. A late writer
thus characterizes these poems :

"The rich mythology of Greece furnished Ovid, as
it may still furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculp-
"tor, with materials for his art. With exquisite taste,
simplicity, and pathos he has narrated the fabulous tra-
ditions of early ages, and given to them that appearance
of reality which only a master hand could impart. His
pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with
care that which is appropriate; he rejects the superflu-
ous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither
defective nor redundant. The 'Metamorphoses' are read
with pleasure by youth, and are re-read in more ad-
vanced age with still greater delight. The poet ventured

310 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

to predict that his poem would survive him, and be read
wherever the Roman name was known."

The prediction above alluded to is contained in the
closing lines of the "Metamorphoses," of which we give
a literal translation below :

"And now I close my work, which not the ire
Of Jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire
Shall bring to nought. Come when it will that day
Which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway,
And snatch the remnant of my life away,
My better part above the stars shall soar,
And my renown endure forevermore.
Where'er the Roman arms and arts shall spread,
There by the people shall my book be read;
And, if aught true in poet's visions be,
My name and fame h^ve immortality."

CHAPTER XXXVI

MODERN MONSTERS THE PHCENIX BASILISK UNICORN

SALAMANDER

MODERN MONSTERS

There is a set of imaginary beings which seem to
have been the successors of the "Gorgons, Hydras, and
Chimeras dire" of the old superstitions, and, having no
connection with the false gods of Paganism, to have
continued to enjoy an existence in the popular belief
after Paganism was superseded by Christianity. They
are mentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their
chief popularity and currency seem to have been in more
modern times. We seek our accoimts of them not so
much in the poetry of the ancients as in the old natural
history books and narrations of travellers. The accounts
which we are about to give are taken chiefly from the
Penny Cyclopedia.

THE PHCENIX

Ovid tells the story of the Phoenix as follows : "Most
beings spring from other individuals ; but there is a
certain kind which reproduces itself. The Assyrians

THE PHCENIX 311*

call it the Phoenix. It does not live on fruit or flowers,
but on frankincense and odoriferous gums. When it
has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in
the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree.
In this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh,
and of these materials builds a pile on which it de-
posits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath
amidst odors. From the body of the parent bird, a
young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long a
life as its predecessor. When this has grown up and
gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree
(its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries
it to the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in
the temple of the Sun."

Such is the account given by a poet. Now let us see
that of a philosophic historian. Tacitus says, "In the
consulship of Paulus Fabius (A.D. 34) the miraculous
bird known to the world by the name of the Phoenix,
after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited Egypt.
It was attended in its flight by a group of various birds,
all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with wonder at
so beautiful an appearance." He then gives an account
of the bird, not varying materially from the preceding,
but adding some details. "The first care of the young
Mrd as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings,
IS to perform the obsequies of his father. But this duty
is not undertaken rashly. He collects a quantity of
myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excur-
sions with a load on his back. When he has gained suf-
ficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body
of his father and flies with it to the altar of the Sun,
where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fra-
grance." Other writers add a few particulars. The
myrrh is compacted in the form of an egg, in which the
dead Phoenix is enclosed. . From the mouldering flesh
of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when
grown large, is transformed into a bird. Herodotus
describes the bird, though he says. "I have not seen it
myself, except in a picture. Part of his plumage is
gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is for the most
part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk."

312 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

The first writer who disclaimed a beHef in the ex-
istence of the Phoenix was Sir Thomas Browne, in his
"Vulgar Errors," published in 1646. He was replied
to a few years later by Alexander Ross, who says, in
answer to the objection of the Phoenix so seldom making
his appearance, "His instinct teaches him to keep out
of the way of the tyrant of the creation, mati, for if he
were to be got at, some wealthy glutton would surely
devour him, though there were no more in the world."

Dryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to
the Phoenix:

"So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen,
Her feathered subjects all adore their queen.
And while she makes her progress through the East,
From every grove her numerous train's increased;
Each poet of the air her glory sings,
And round him the pleased audience clap their wings."

Milton, in "Paradise Lost," Book V., compares the
angel Raphael descending to earth to a Phoenix :

". . . Down thither, prone in flight
He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky
Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing,
Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan
Winnows the buxom air ; till within soar
Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems
A Phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird
When, to enshrine his relics in the sun's
Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies."

THE COCKATRICE, OR BASILISK

This animal was called the king of the serpents. In
confirmation of his royalty, he was said to be endowed
with a crest, or comb upon the head, constituting a
crown. He was supposed to be produced from the egg
of a cock hatched under toads or serpents. There were
several species of this animal. One species burned up
whatever they approached ; a second were a kind of
wandering Medusa's heads, and their look caused an in-
stant horror which was immediately followed by death.
In Shakspeare's play of "Richard the Third," Lady

THE COCKATRICE, OR BASILISK 313

Anne, in answer to Richard's compliment on her eyes,
says, "Would they were basilisk's, to strike thee
dead !" _

The basilisks were called kings of serpents because
all other serpents and snakes, behaving like good sub-
jects, and wisely not wishing to be burned up or struck
dead, fled the moment they heard the distant hiss of
their king, although they might be in full feed upon
the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of
the banquet to the royal monster.

The Roman naturalist Pliny thus describes him: "He
does not impel his body, like other serpents, by a mul-
tiplied flexion, but advances lofty and upright. He
kills the shrubs, not only by contact, but by breathing
on them, and splits the rocks, such power of evil is there
in him." It was formerly believed that if killed by a
spear from on horseback the power of the poison con-
ducted through the weapon killed not only the rider,
but the horse also. To this Lucan alludes in these
lines :

"What though the Moor the basilisk hath slain.
And pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain.
Up through the spear the subtle venom flies,
The hand imbibes it, and the victor dies."

Such a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in
the legends of the saints. Accordingly we find it re-
corded that a certain holy man, going to a fountain in
the desert, suddenly beheld a basilisk. He immediately
raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal to
the Deity laid the monster dead at his feet.

These wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested
by a host of learned persons, such as Galen, Avicenna,
Scaliger, and others. Occasionally one would demur to
some part of the tale while he admitted the rest. Jon-
ston, a learned physician, sagely remarks, "I would
scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who could
have seen it and lived to tell the story?" Tlie worthy
sage was not aware that those who went to hunt the
basilisk of this sort took with them a mirror, which re-
flected back the deadly glare upon its author, and by a

314 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

kind of poetical justice slew the basilisk with his own
weapon.

But what was to attack this terrible and unapproach-
able monster? There is an old saying that "everything
has its enemy" and the cockatrice quailed before the
weasel. The basilisk might look daggers, the weasel
cared not, but advanced boldly to the conflict. When
bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat some
rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not
wither, returned with renewed strength and soundness
to the charge, and never left the enemy till he was
stretched dead on the plain. The monster, too, as if
conscious of the irregular way in which he came into
the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a
cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the
cock crow he expired.

The basilisk was of some use after death. Thus we
read that its carcass was suspended in the temple of
Apollo, and in private houses, as a sovereign remedy
against spiders, and that it was also hung up in the
temple of Diana, for which reason no swallow ever
dared enter the sacred place.

The reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had
enough of absurdities, but still we can imagine his anxi-
ety to know what a cockatrice was like. The follow-
ing is from Aldrovandus, a celebrated naturalist of the
sixteenth century, whose work on natural history, in
thirteen folio volumes, contains with much that is valu-
able a large proportion of fables and inutilities. In
particular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and
the bull that from his practice, all rambling, gossiping
tales of doubtful credibility are galled cock and hull
stories. Aldrovandus, however, deserves our respect and
esteem as the founder of a botanic garden, and as a
pioneer in the now prevalent custom of making scientific
collections for purposes of investigation and research.

Shelley, in his "Ode to Naples," full of the enthu-
siasm excited by the intelligence of the proclamation
of a Constitutional Government at Naples, in 1820, thus
uses an allusion to the basilisk :

I

THE UNICORN 315

"What though Cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme
Freedom and thee? a new Actason's error
Shall theirs have been, devoured by their own hounds!

Be. thou like the imperial basilisk,
Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds !

Gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk.
Aghast she pass from the earth's disk.
Fear not, but gaze, for freemen mightier grow,
And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe."

THE UNICORN

Pliny, the Roman naturalist, out of whose account
of the unicorn most of the modern unicorns have been
described and figured, records it as "a very ferocious
beast, similar in the rest of its body to a horse, with
the head of a deer, the feet of an elephant, the tail of
a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black horn,
two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its
forehead." He adds that "it cannot be taken alive;"
and some such excuse may have been necessary in those
days for not producing the living animal upon the arena
of the amphitheatre.

The unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the
hunters, who hardly knew how to come at so valuable
a piece of game. Some described the horn as movable
at the will of the animal, a kind of small sword, in short,
with which no hunter who was not exceedingly cunning
in fence could have a chance. Others maintained that
all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and that when
hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the
pinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to
pitch upon it, and then quietly march off not a whit
the worse for its fall.

But it seems they found out how to circumvent the
poor unicorn at last. They discovered that it was a
great lover of purity and innocence, so they took the
field with a young virgm, who was placed in the un-
suspecting admirer's way. When the unicorn spied her,
he approached with all reverence, couched beside her,
and laying his head in her lap, fell asleep. The treach-
erous virgin then gave a signal, and the hunters made
in and captured the simple beast.

316 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

IMcdern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be
Avith such fables as these, disbelieve generally the ex-
istence of the unicorn. Yet there are animals bearing on
their heads a bony protuberance more or less like a horn,
which may have given rise to the story. The rhinoceros
horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though it
does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from
agreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the uni-
corn. The nearest approach to a horn in the middle
of the forehead is exhibited in the bony protuberance
on the forehead of the giraffe; but this also is short
and blunt, and is not the only horn of the animal, but
a third horn, standing in front of the two others. In
fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the ex-
istence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhi-
noceros, it may be safely stated that the insertion of a
long and solid horn in the living forehead of a horse-
like or deer-like animal is as near an impossibility as
anything can be.

THE SALAMANDER

The following is from the "Life of Benvenuto Cel-
lini," an Italian artist of the sixteenth century, written
by himself: "When I was about five years of age, my
father, happening to be in a little room in which they
had been washing, and where there was a good fire of
oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little
animal resembling a lizard, which could live in the
hottest part of that element. Instantly perceiving what
it was, he called for my sister and ma and after he had
shown us the creature, he gave me a box on the ear. I
fell a-crying, while he, soothing me with caresses, spoke
these words : 'My dear child, I do not give you that blow
for aaiy fault you have committed, but that you may rec-
ollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a
salamander; such a one as never was beheld before to
my knowledge.' So saying he embraced me, and gave
me some money."

It seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which
Signor Cellini was both an eye and ear witness. Add

THE SALAMANDER 317

to which the authority of numerous sage philosophers,
at the head of whom are Aristotle and Pliny, affirms
this power of the salamander. According to them, the
animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when
he sees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well
knows how to vanquish.

That the skin of an animal which could resist the
action of fire should be considered proof against that
element is not to be wondered at. VVe accordingly find
that a cloth made of the skin of salamanders (for there
really is such an animal, a kind of lizard) was incom-
bustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles
as were too precious to be intrusted to any other en-
velopes. These fire-proof cloths were actually produced,
said to be made of salamander's wool, though the know-
ing ones detected that the substance of which they
were composed was asbestos, a mineral, which is in
fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible
cloth.

The foundation of the above fables is supposed to be
the fact that the salamander really does secrete from
the pores of his body a milky juice, which when he is
irritated is produced in considerable quantity, and would
doubtless, for a few moments, defend the body from
fire. Then it is a hibernating animal, and in winter re-
tires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils
itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring
again calls it forth. It may therefore sometimes be
carried with the fuel to the fire, and wake up only time
enough to put forth all its faculties for its defence.
Its viscous juice would do good ser\'ice, and all who
profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it got out of
the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed, too
fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one
instance, and in that one the animal's feet and some
parts of its body were badly burned.

Dr. Young, in the "Night Thoughts," with more
quaintness than good taste, compares the sceptic who
can remain unmoved in the contemplation of the starry
heavens to a salamander unwarmed in the fire:

31? STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

"An undevout astronomer is mad !

"O, what a genius must inform the skies !
And is Lorenzo's salamander-heart,
Cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?"

CHAPTER XXXVn

EASTERN MYTHOLOGY ZOROASTER HINDU MYTHOLOGY

CASTES BUDDHA GRAND LAMA

ZOROASTER

Our knowledge of the religion of the ancient Persians
is principally derived from the Zendavesta, or sacred
books of that people. Zoroaster was the founder of
their religion, or rather the reformer of the religion
which preceded him. The time when he lived is doubt-
ful, but it is certain that his system became the dom-
inant religion of Western Asia from the time of Cyrus
(550 B.C.) to the conquest of Persia by Alexander the
Great. Under the Macedonian monarchy the doctrines
of Zoroaster appear to have been' considerably cor-
rupted by the introduction of foreign opinions, but they
afterwards recovered their ascendency.

Zoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being,
who created two other mighty beings and imparted to
them as much of his own nature as seemed good to him.
Of these, Ormuzd (called by the Greeks Oromasdes)
remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as
the source of all good, while Ahriman (Arimanes)
rebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the
earth. Ormuzd created man and supplied him with all
the materials of happiness ; but Ahriman marred this
happiness by introducing evil into the world, and creat-
ing savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. In
consequence of this, evil and good are now mingled to-
gether in every part of the world, and the followers of
good and evil the adherents of Ormuzd and Ahriman
carry on incessant war. But this state of things will not

ZOROASTER 319

last forever. The time will come when the adherents of
Ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and Ahriman
and his followers be consigned to darkness forever.

The religious rites of the ancient Persians were ex-
ceedingly simple. They used neither temples, altars, nor
statues, and performed their sacrifices on the tops of
mountains. They adored fire, light, and the sun as em-
blems of Ormuzd, the source of all light and purity, but
did not regard them as independent deities. The re-
ligious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the
priests, who were called Magi. The learning of the
Magi was connected with astrology and enchantment,
in which they were so celebrated that their name was
applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters.

Wordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the Per-
sians :

". . . the Persian, zealous to reject
Altar and Image, and the inclusive walls
And roofs of temples built by human hands,
The loftiest heights ascending, from their tops,
With myrtle-wreathed Tiara on his brows,
Presented sacrifice to Moon and Stars,
And to the Winds and mother Elements,
And the whole circle of the Heavens, for him
A sensitive existence and a God."

Excursion, Book IV.

In "Childe Harold" Byron speaks thus of the Persian
worship :

"Not vainly did the early Persian make
His altar the high places and the peak
Of earth-o'er-gazing mountains, and thus take
A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek
The Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak,
Upreared of human hands. Come and compare
Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek,
With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air.
Nor nx on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer."

III., 91.

The religion of Zoroaster continued to flourish even
after the introduction of Christianity, and in the third
century was the dominant faith of the East, till the rise
of the Mahometan power and the conquest of Persia by

320 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

the Arabs in the seventh century, who compelled the
greater number of the Persians to renounce their ancient
faith. Those who refused to abandon the religion of
their ancestors fled to the deserts of Kerman and to
Hindustan^ where they still exist under the name of
Parsees, a name derived from Pars, the ancient name of
Persia. The Arabs call them Guebers, from an Arabic
word signifying unbelievers. At Bombay the Parsees
are at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy
class. For purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory man-
ners, they are favorably distinguished. They have
numerous temples to Fire, which they adore as the sym-
bol of the divinity.

The Persian religion makes the subject of the finest
tale in Moore's "Lalla Rookh," the "Fire Worshippers."
The Gueber chief says,

"Yes ! I am of that impious race,

Those slaves of Fire, that morn and even
Hail their creator's dwelHng-place

Among the hving hghts of heaven;
Yes ! I am of that outcast crew
To Iran and to vengeance true,
Who curse the hour your Arabs came
To desecrate our shrines of flame,
And swear before God's burning eye.
To break our country's chains or die."

HINDU MYTHOLOGY

The religion of the Hindus is professedly founded on
the Vedas. To these books of their scripture they at-
tach the greatest sanctity, and state^ that Brahma him-
self composed them at the creation. But the present
arrangement of the Vedas is attributed to the sage
Vyasa, about five thousand years ago.

The Vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one su-
preme God. The name of this deity is Brahma. His
attributes are represented by the three personified powers
of creation, preservation, and destruction, which under
the respective names of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva form
the Trimtirti or triad of principal Hindu gods. Of the
inferior gods the most important are: 1. Indra, the god

VISHNU 321

-of heaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain,; 2.
Agni, the god of fire; 3. Yama, the god of the infernal
regions; 4. Surya, the god of the sun.

Brahma is the creator of the universe, and the source
from which all the individual deities have sprung, and
into which all will ultimately be absorbed. "As milk
changes to curd, and water to ice, so is Brahma vari-
ously transformed and diversified, without aid of exterior
means of any sort." The human soul, according to the
Vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is
of the fire.

VISHNU

Vishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the
Hindus, and is the personification of the preserving
principle. To protect the world in various epochs of
danger, Vishnu descended to the earth in different incar-
nations, or bodily forms, which descents are called Ava-
tars. They are very numerous, but ten are more partic-
ularly specified. The first Avatar was as Matsya, the
Fish, under v/hich form Vishnu preserved Manu, the
ancestor of the human race, during a universal deluge.
The second Avatar was in the form of a Tortoise, which
form he assumed to support the earth when the gods
were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality,
Amrita.

We may omit the other Avatars, which were of the
same general character, that is, interpositions to protect
the right or to punish wrong-doers, and come to the
ninth, which is the most celebrated of the Avatars of
Vishnu, in which he appeared in the human form of
Krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits re-
lieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it.

Buddha is by the followers of the Brahmanical religion
regarded as a delusive incarnation of Vishnu, assumed
by him in order to induce the Asuras, opponents of the
gods, to abandon the sacred ordinances of the Vedas, by
which means they lost their strength and supremacy.

Kalki is the name of the terith Avatar, in which
Vishnu will appear at the end of the present age of the

322 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

world to destroy all vice and wickedness, and to restore
mankind to virtue and purity.

SIVA

Siva is the third person of the Hindu triad. He is the
personification of the destroying principle. Though the
third name, he is, in respect to the number of his wor-
shippers and the extension of his worship, before either
of the others. In the Puranas (the scriptures of the
modern Hindu religion) no allusion is made to the orig-
inal power of this god as a destroyer; that power not
being to be called into exercise till after the expiration of
twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come
to an end; and Mahadeva (another name for Siva) is
rather the representative of regeneration than of de-
struction.

The worshippers of Vishnu and Siva form two sects,
each of which proclaims the superiority of its favorite
deity, denying the claims of the other, and Brahma, the
creator, having finished his work, seems to be regarded
as no longer active, and has now only one temple in
India, while Mahadeva and Vishnu have many. The
worshippers of Vishnu are generally distinguished by a
greater tenderness for life, and consequent abstinence
from animal food, and a worship less cruel than that of
the followers of Siva.

JUGGERNAUT

Whether the worshippers of Juggernaut are to be
reckoned among the followers of Vishnu or Siva, our
authorities differ. The temple stands near the shore,
about three hundred miles south-west of Calcutta. The
idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face,
painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. On
festival days the throne of the image is placed on a
tower sixty feet high, moving on wheels. Six long ropes
are attached to the tower, by which the people draw it
along. The priests and their attendants stand round the

CASTES 323

throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the wor-
shippers with songs and gestures. While the tower
moves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw
themselves on the ground, in order to be crushed by the
wheels, and the multitude shout in approbation of the
act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. Every year, par-
ticularly at two great festivals in March and July, pil-
grims flock in crowds to the temple. Not less than sev-
enty or eighty thousand people are said to visit the place
on these occasions, when all castes eat together.

CASTES

The division of the Hindus into classes or castes,
with fixed occupations, existed from the earliest times.
It is supposed by some to have been founded upon con-
quest, the first three castes being composed of a foreign
race, who subdued the natives of the country and re-
duced them to an inferior caste. Others trace it to the
fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son,
certain offices or occupations.

The Hindu tradition gives the following account of
the origin of the various castes : At the creation Brahma
resolved to give the earth inhabitants who should be
direct emanations from his own body. Accordingly
from his mouth came forth the eldest born, Brahma (the
priest), to whom he confided the four Vedas ; from
his right arm issued Shatriya (the warrior), and from
his left, the warrior's wife. His thighs produced
Vaissyas, male and female (agriculturists and traders),
and lastly from his feet sprang Sudras (mechanics and
laborers).

The four sons of Brahma, so significantly brought
into the world, became the fathers of the human race,
and heads of their respective castes. They were com-
manded to regard the four Vedas as containing all the
rules of their faith, and all that was necessary to guide
them in their religious ceremonies. They were also
commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the
Brahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head
of Brahma.

324 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

A strong line of demarcation is drawn between the
first three castes and the Sudras. The former are al-
lowed to receive instruction from the Vedas, which is
not permitted to the Sudras. The Brahmans possess
the privilege of teaching the Vedas, and were in former
times in exclusive possession of aU'knowledge. Though
the sovereign of the country was chosen from the Sha-
triya class, also called Rajputs, the Brahmans possessed
the real power, and were the royal counsellors, the
judges and magistrates of the country; their persons
and property were inviolable ; and though they commit-
ted the greatest crimes, they could only be banished
from the kingdom. They were to be treated by sov-
ereigns with the greatest respect, for "a Brahman,
whether learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity."

When the Brahman arrives at years of maturity it be-
comes his duty to marry. He ought to be supported
by the contributions of the rich, and not to be obliged to
gain his subsistence by any laborious or productive occu-
pation. But as all the Brahmans could not be main-
tained by the working classes of the community, it was
found necessary to allow them to engage in productive
employments.

We need say little of the two intermediate classes,
whose rank and privileges may be readily inferred from
their occupations. The Sudras or fourth class are
bound to servile attendance on the higher classes, espe-
cially the Brahmans, but they may follow mechanical
occupations and practical arts, as painting and writing,
or become traders or husbandmen. Consequently they
sometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen
that Brahmans become poor. That^fact works its usual
consequence, and rich Sudras sometimes employ poor^
Brahmans in menial occupations.

There is another class lower even than the Sudras,
for it is not one of the original pure classes, but springs
from an unauthorized union of individuals of different
castes. These are the Pariahs, who are employed in the
lowest services and treated with the utmost severity.
They are compelled to do what no one else can do with-
out pollution. They are not only considered unclean.

BUDDHA 325

themselves, but they render unclean everything they
touch. They are deprived of all civil rights, and stig-
matized by particular laws regulating their mode of life,
their houses, and their furniture. They are not allowed
to visit the pagodas or temples of the other castes, but
have their own pagodas and religious exercises. They
are not suffered to enter the houses of the other castes;
if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place
must be purified by religious ceremonies. They must
not appear at public markets, and are confined to the
use of particular wells, which they are obliged to sur-
round with bones of animals, to warn others against
using them. They dwell in miserable hovels, distant
from cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in
regard to food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark
of ignominy, as if they were so degraded that nothing
could pollute them. The three higher castes are prohib-
ited entirely the use of flesh. The fourth is allowed to
use all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is al-
lowed every kind of food without restriction.

BUDDHA

Buddha, whom the Vedas represent as a delusive in-
carnation of Vishnu, is said by his followers to have
been a mortal sage, whose name was Gautama, called
also by the complimentary epithets of Sakyasinha, the
Lion, and Buddha, the Sage.

By a comparison of the various epochs assigned to
his birth, it is inferred that he lived about one thousand
years before Christ.

He was the son of a king; and when in conformity
to the usage of the country he was, a few days after
his birth, presented before the altar of a deity, the image
is said to have inclined its head as a presage of the
future greatness of the new-born prophet. The child
soon developed faculties of the first order, and became
equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his
person. No sooner had he grown to years of maturity
than he began to reflect deeply on the depravity and
misery of mankind, and he conceived the idea of retiring

326 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

from society and devoting himself to meditation. His
father in vain opposed this design. Buddha escaped the
vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure re-
treat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout con-
templations. At the expiration of that period he came
forward at Benares as a religious teacher. At first some
who heard him doubted of the soundness of his mind;
but his doctrines soon gained credit, and were propa-
gated so rapidly that Buddha himself lived to see them
spread all over India. He died at the age of eighty
years.

The Buddhists reject entirely the authority of the
Vedas, and the religious observances prescribed in them
and kept by the Hindus. They also reject the distinc-
tion of castes, and prohibit all bloody sacrifices, and al-
low animal food. Their priests are chosen from all
classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance
by perambulation and begging, and among other things
it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things
thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the
medicinal power of plants. But in Ceylon three orders
of priests are recognized ; those of the highest order are
usually men of high birth and learning, and are
supported at the principal temples, most of which have
been richly endowed by the former monarchs of the
country.

For several centuries after the appearance of Buddha,
his sect seems to have been tolerated by the Brahmans,
and Buddhism appears to have penetrated the peninsula
of Hindustan in every direction, and to have been car-
ried to Ceylon, and to the eastern p;eninsula. But after-
wards it had to endure in India a long-continued persecu-
tion, which ultimately had the effect of entirely abolish-
ing it in the country where it had originated, but to
scatter it widely over adjacent countries. Buddhism ap-
pears to have been introduced into China about the year
65 of our era. From China it was subsequently extended
to Corea, Japan, and Java.

PRESTER JOHN 327

THE GRAND LAMA

It is a doctrine alike of the Brahminical Hindus and
of the Buddhist sect that the confinement of the human
soul, an emanation of the divine spirit, in a human
body, is a state of misery, and the consequence of
frailties and sins committed during former existences.
But they hold that some few individuals have appeared
on this earth from time to time, not under the neces-
sity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily de-
scended to the earth to promote the welfare of man-
kind. These individuals have gradually assumed the char-
acter of reappearances of Buddha himself, in which
capacity the line is continued till the present day, in the
several Lamas of Thibet, China, and other countries
where Buddhism prevails. In consequence of the vic-
tories of Gengis Khan and his successors, the Lama re-
siding in Thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pon-
tiff of the sect. A separate province was assigned to
him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual dig-
nity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch.
He is styled the Dalai Lama.

The first Christian missionaries who proceeded to
Thibet were surprised to find there in the heart of y\sia
a pontifical court and several other ecclesiastical institu-
tions resembling those of the Roman Catholic church.
They found convents for priests and nuns ; also pro-
cessions and forms of religious worship, attended with
much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by
these similarities to consider Lamaism as a sort of de-
generated Christianity. It is not improbable that the
Lamas derived some of these practices from the Nesto-
rian Christians, who were settled in Tartary when
Buddhism was introduced into Thibet.

PRESTER JOHN

An early account, communicated probably by trav-
elling merchants, of a Lama or spiritual chief among
the Tartars, seems to have occasioned in Europe the re-
port of a Presbyter or Prester John, a Christian pontiff

328 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

resident in Upper Asia. The Pope sent a mission in
search of him, as did also Louis IX. of France, some
years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though
the small communities of Nestorian Christians, which
they did find, served to keep up the belief in Europe that
such a personage did exist somewhere in the East. At
last in the fifteenth century, a Portuguese traveller,
Pedro Covilham, happening to hear that there was a
Christian prince in the country of the Abessines (Abys-
sinia), not far from the Red Sea, concluded that this
must be the true Prester John. He accordingly went
thither, and penetrated to the court of the king, whom
he calls Negus. Milton alludes to him in "Paradise
Tost," Book XT, where, describing Adam's vision of
his descendants in their various nations and cities, scat-
tered over the face of the earth, he says,

". . . Nor did his eyes not ken
Th' empire of Negus, to his utmost port,
Ercoco, and the less maritime kings,
Mombaza and Quiloa and Melind."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY ^VALHALLA THE VALKYRIOR

NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY

The stories which have engaged our attention thus
far relate to the mythology of southern regions. But
there is another branch of ancient superstitions which
ought not to be entirely overlooked, especially as it be-
longs to the nations from which we, through our
English ancestors, derive our origin. It is that of the
northern nations, called Scandinavians, who inhabited
the countries now known as Sweden, Denmark, Norway,
and Iceland. These mythological records are con-

NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY 329

tained in two collections called the Eddas, of which the
oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year 1056, the
more modern or prose Edda being of the date of 1640.

According to the Eddas there was once no heaven
above nor earth beneath, but only a bottomless deep,
and a world of mist in which flowed a fountain. Twelve
rivers issued from this fountain, and when they h^d
flowed far from their source, they froze into ice, and one
layer accumulating over another, the great deep was filled
up.

Southward from the world of mist was the world of
light. From this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and
melted it. The vapors rose in the air and formed clouds,
from which sprang Ymir, the Frost giant and his pro-
geny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk afforded
nourishment and food to the giant. The cow got nour-
ishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the
ice. While she was one day licking the salt stones
there appeared at first the hair of a man, on the second
day the whole head, and on the third the entire form
endowed with beauty, agility, and power. This new be-
ing was a god, from whom and his wife, a daughter of
the giant race, sprang the three brothers Odin, Vili, and
Ve. They slew the giant Ymir, and out of his body
formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the
mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the heavens,
and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. Of
Ymir's eyebrows the gods formed Midgard (mid earth),
destined to become the abode of man.

Odin then regulated the periods of day and night and
the seasons by placing in the heavens the sun and moon
and appointing to them their respective courses. As
soon as the sun began to shed its rays upon the earth,
it caused the vegetable world to bud and sprout.
Shortly after the gods had created the world they
walked by the side of the sea, pleased with their new
work, but found that it was still incomplete, for it was
without human beings. They therefore took an ash tree
and made a man out of it, and they made a woman out
of an elder, and called the man xA.ske and the woman
Embla. Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason

330 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

and motion, and Ve bestowed upon them the senses, ex-
pressive features, and speech. Midgard was then given
them as their residence, and they became the progenitors
of the human race.

The mighty ash tree Ygdrasill was supposed to sup-
port the whole universe. It sprang from the body of
Ymir, and had three immense roots, extending one into
Asgard (the dwelHng of the gods), the other into Jotun-
heim (the abode of the giants), and the third to Niffle-
heim (the regions of darkness and cold). By the side
of each of these roots is a spring, from which it is
watered. The root that extends into Asgard is care-
fully tended by the three Norns, goddesses, who are
regarded as the dispensers of fate. They are Urdur
(the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the future).
The spring at the Jotunheim side is Ymir's well, in
which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of Niffleheim
feeds the adder Nidhogge (darkness), which perpetu-
ally gnaws at the root. Four harts run across the
branches of the tree and bite the buds ; they represent
the four winds. Under the tree lies Ymir, and when he
tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes.

Asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access
to which is only gained by crossing the bridge Bifrost
(the rainbow). Asgard consists of golden and silver
palaces, the dwellings of the gods, but the most beautiful
of these is Valhalla, the residence of Odin. When
seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth.
Upon his shoulders are the ravens Hugin and Munin,
who fly every day over the whole world, and on their
return report to him all they have seen and heard. At
his feet lie his two wolves, Geri 'and Freki, to whom
Odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for he
himself stands in no need of food. Mead is for him
both food and drink. He invented the Runic characters,
and it is the business of the Norns to engrave the runes
of fate upon a metal shield. From Odin's name, spelt
Woden, as it sometimes is, came Wednesday, the name
of the fourth day of the week.

Odin is frequently called Alfadur (All-father), but
this name is sometimes used in a way that shows that

OF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS 331

the Scandinavians had an idea of a deity superior to
Odin, uncreated and eternal.

OF THE JOYS OF VALHALLA

Valhalla is the great hall of Odin, wherein he feasts
with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely
in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded.
The flesh of the boar Schrimnir is served up to them,
and is abundant for all. For although this boar is cooked
every morning, he becomes whole again every night.
For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with mead
from the she-goat Heidrum. When the heroes are not
feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. Every
day they ride out into the court or field and fight until
they cut each other in pieces. This is their pastime;
but when meal time comes they recover from their
wounds and return to feast in Valhalla.

THE VALKYRIE

The Valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon
horses and armed with helmets and spears. Odin, who
is desirous to collect a great many heroes in Valhalla
to be able to meet the giants in a day when the finai
contest must come, sends down to every battle-fielcl tt.
make choice of those who shall be slain. The Valky-
rie are his messengers, and their name means "Choosers
of the slain." When they ride forth on their errand,
their armor sheds a strange flickering light, which flashes
up over the northern skies, making what men call the
"Aurora Borealis," or "Northern Lights."^

OF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS

Thor, the thunderer, Odin's eldest son, is the strong-
est of gods and men, and possesses three very pre-
cious things. The first is a hammer, which both the
Frost and the Mountain giants know to their cost, when
they sec it hurled against them in the air, for it has split
many a skull of their fathers and kindred. When

1 Gray's ode, "The Fatal Sisters," is founded on this superstition.

332 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. The
second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of
strength. When he girds it about him his divine might
is doubled. The third, also very precious, is his iron
gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his
mallet efficiently. From Thor's name is derived our
word Thursday.

Frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. He
presides over rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the
earth. His sister Freya is the most propitious of the
goddesses. She loves music, spring, and flowers, and is
particularly fond of the Elves (fairies). She is very
fond of love ditties, and all lovers would do well to
invoke her.

Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the
deeds of warriors. His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box;
the apples which the gods, when they feel old age ap-
proaching, have only to taste of to become young again.

Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is there-
fore placed on the borders of heaven to prevent the
giants from forcing their way over the bridge Bifrost
(the rainbow). He requires less sleep than a bird, and
sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around
him. So acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for
he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a
sheep's back.

OF LOKI AND HIS PROGENY

There is another deity who is described as the calum-
niator of the gods and the contriver of all fraud and:
mischief. His name is Loki. He is handsome and well
made, but of a very fickle mood and most evil disposi-
tion. He is of the giant race, but forced himself into
the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in
bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them
out of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. Loki
has three children. The first is the wolf Fenris, the
second the Midgard serpent, the third Hela (Death).
The gods were not ignorant that these monsters were
screwing up, and that they would one day bring much.

HOW THOR PAID THE GIANT'S WAGES 333

evil upon gods and men. So Odin deemed it advis-
able to send one to bring them to him. When they came
he threw the serpent into that deep ocean by which the
earth is surrounded. But the monster had grown to
such an enormous size that holding his tail in his mouth
he encircles the whole earth. Hela he cast into Niffle-
heim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions,
into which she distributes those who are sent to her;
that is, all who die of sickness or old age. Her hall is
called Elvidner. Hunger is her table. Starvation her
knife, Delay her man, Slowness her maid, Precipice her
threshold, Care her bed, and Burning Anguish forms the
hangings of the apartments. She may easily be recog-
nized, for her body is half flesh color and half blue, and
she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance.
The wolf Fenris gave the gods a great deal of trou-
ble before they succeeded in chaining him. He broke
the strongest fetters as if they were made of cobwebs.
Finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain spirits^
who made for them the chain called Gleipnir. It is
fashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the
footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of
stones, the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of
bears, and the spittle of birds. When finished it was
as smooth and soft as a silken string. But when the
gods asked the wolf to sufifer himself to be bound with
this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design,
fearing that it was made by enchantment. He there-
fore only consented to be bound with it upon condition
that one of the gods put his hand in his (Fenris's)
mouth as a pledge that the band was to be removed
again. Tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage
enough to do this. But when the wolf found that ho
could not break his fetters, and that the gods would not
release him, he bit ofif Tyr's hand, and he has ever since
remained one-handed.

HOW TIIOR PAID THE MOUNTAIN GIANT HIS WAGES

Once on a time, 'when the gods were constructing
their abodes and had already finished Midgard and Val-

334 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

halla, a certain artificer came and offered to build them
a residence so well fortified that they should be per-
fectly safe from the incursions of the Frost giants and
the giants of the mountains. But he demanded for his
reward the goddess Freya, together with the sun and
moon. The gods yielded to his terms, provided he
would finish the whole work himself without any one's
assistance, and all within the space of one winter. But
if anything remained unfinished on the first day of sum-
mer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. On
being told these terms the artificer stipulated that he
should be allowed the use of his horse Svadilfari, and
this by the advice of Loki was granted to him. He ac-
cordingly set to work on the first day of winter, and
during the night let his horse draw stone for the build-
ing. The enormous size of the stones struck the gods
with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse
did one-half more of the toilsome work than his master.
Their bargain, however, had been concluded, and con-
firmed by solemn oaths, for without these precautions
a giant would not have thought himself safe among the
jjods, especially when Thor should return from an ex-
pedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons.

As the winter drew to a close, the building was far
advanced, and the bulwarks were sufficiently high and
massive to render the place impregnable. In short, when
it wanted but three days to summer, the only part that
remained to be finished was the gateway. Then sat the
i^^ods on their seats of justice and entered into consul-
tation, inquiring of one another who among them could
have advised to give Freya away/ or to plunge the
heavens in darkness by permitting the giant to carry
away the sun and the moon.

They all agreed that no one but Loki, the author of
so many evil deeds, could have given such bad counsel,
and that he should be put to a truel death if he did not
contrive some way to prevent the artificer from com-
pleting his task and obtaining the stipulated recom-
pense. They proceeded to lay hands on Loki, who in
his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him what
it would, he would so manage matters that the man

THE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER 335

should lose his reward. That very night when the man
went with Svadilfari for building stone, a mare suddenly
ran out of a forest and began to neigh. The horse
thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the
forest, which obliged the man also to run after his
horse, and thus between one and another the whole night
was lost, so that at dawn the work had not made the
usual progress. The man, seeing that he must fail of
completing his task, resumed his own gigantic stature,
and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality
a mountain giant who had come amongst them. Feeling
no longer boimd by their oaths, they called on Thor,
who immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up
his mallet, paid the workman his wages, not with the
sun and moon, and not even by sending him back to
Jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the
giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong into
Niffleheim.

THE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER

Once upon a time it happened that Thor's hammer
fell into the possession of the giant Thrym, who buried
it eight fathoms deep under the rocks of Jotunheim.
Thor sent Loki to negotiate with Thrym, but he could
only prevail so far as to get the giant's promise to re-
store the weapon if Freya would consent to be his bride.
Loki returned and reported the result of his mission,
but the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea
of bestowing her charms on the king of the Frost giants.
In this emergency Loki persuaded Thor to dress himself
in Freya's clothes and accompany him to Jotunheim.
Thrym received his veiled bride with due courtesy, but
was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her supper
eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other deli-
cacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of
mead. Loki, however, assured him that she had not
tasted anything for eight long nights, so great was her
desire to see her lover, the renowned ruler of Jotunheim.
Thrym had at length the curiosity to peep under his
bride's veil, but started back in affright and demanded

336 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

why Freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. Loki repeated
the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. He or-
dered the hammer to be brought in and laid on the
maiden's lap. Thereupon Thor threw off his disguise,
grasped his redoubted weapon, and slaughtered Thrym
and all his followers.

Frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword
which would of itself spread a field with carnage when-
ever the owner desired it. Frey parted with this sword,
but was less fortunate than Thor and never recovered
it. It happened in this way: Frey once mounted Odin's
throne, from whence one can see over the whole uni-
verse, and looking round saw far off in the giant's king-
dom a beautiful maid, at the sight of whom he was
struck with sudden sadness, insomuch that from that
moment he could neither sleep, nor drink, nor speak.
At last Skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from him,
and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if
he would give him his sword as a reward. Frey con-
sented and gave him the sword, and Skirnir set off on
his journey and obtained the maiden's promise that with-
in nine nights she would come to a certain place and
there wed Frey. Skirnir having reported the success
of his errand, Frey exclaimed:

"Long is one night,
Long are two nights,
But how shall I hold out three?
Shorter hath seemed
A month to me oft
Than of this longing time the half."

So Frey obtained Gerda, the most beautiful of all
women, for his wife, but he lost nis sword.

This story, entitled "Skirnir For," and the one im-
mediately preceding it, "Thrym's Quida," will be found
poetically told in Longfellow's "Poets and Poetry of
Europe."

THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM 337

CHAPTER XXXIX

THOR's visit to JOTUNHEIM
THOR'S visit TO JOTUNHEIM, THE GIANT's COUNTRY

One day the god Thor, with his servant Thialfi, and
accompanied by Loki, set out on a journey to the giant's
country. Thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot.
He bore Thor's wallet, containing their provisions.
When night came on they found themselves in an im-
mense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where
they might pass the night, and at last came to a very
large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth
of one end of the building. Here they lay down to
sleep, but towards midnight were alarmed by an earth-
quake which shook the whole edifice. Thor, rising up,
called on his companions to seek with him a place of
safety. On the right they found an adjoining chamber,
into which the others entered, but Thor remained at
the doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to
defend himself, whatever might happen. A terrible
groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of
day Thor went out and found lying near him a huge
giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed
them so. It is said that for once Thor was afraid to
use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, Thor
contented himself with simply asking his name.

"My name is Skrymir," said the giant, "but I need
not ask thy name, for I know that thou art the god
Thor. But what has become of my glove?" Thor then
perceived that what they had taken overnight for a
hall was the giant's glove, and the chamber where his
two companions had sought refuge was the thumb.
Skrymir then proposed that they should travel in com-
pany, and Thor consenting, they sat down to eat their
breakfast, and when they had done, Skrymir packed all
the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder,
and strode on before them, taking such tremendous

338 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with
him. So they travelled the whole day, and at dusk
Skrymir chose a place for them to pass the night in
under a large oak tree. Skrymir then told them he
would lie down to sleep. "But take ye the wallet," he
added, "and prepare your supper."

Skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly;
but when Thor tried to open the wallet, he found the
giant had tied it up so tight he could not untie a single
knot. At last Thor became wroth, and grasping his
mallet with both han(;ls he struck a furious blow on the
giant's head. Skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether
a leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they
had supped and were ready to go to sleep. Thor an-
swered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying
went and laid himself down under another tree. But
sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymir
snored again so loud that the forest reechoed with the
noise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it
with such force at the giant's skull that it made a deep
dint in it. Skrymir, awakening, cried out, "What's the
matter? Are there any birds perched on this tree? i
felt some moss from the branches fall on my head.
How fares it with thee, Thor?" But Thor went away
hastily, saying that he had just then awoke, and that as
it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep.
He, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of
striking a third blow, it should settle all m?.tters between
them. A little before daybreak he perceived that Skry-
mir was again fast asleep, and again grasping his mal-
let, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its
way into the giant's skull up to the handle. But Skrymir
sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "An acorn fell on
my head. What! Art thou awake, Thor? Methinks
it is time for us to get up and dress ourselves ; but you
have not now a long way before you to the city called
Utgard. I have heard you whispering to one another
that I am not a man of small dimensions; but if you
come to Utgard you will see there many men much
taller than I. Wherefore, I advise you, when you come
there, not to make too much of yourselves, for the

THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM 339

followers of Utgard-Loki will not brook the boasting
of such little fellows as you are. You must take the
road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we
must part here."

Hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and
turned away from them into the forest, and Thor had
no wish to stop him or to ask for any more of his
company.

Thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and
towards noon descried a city standing in the middle of
a plain. It was so lofty that they were obliged to bend
their necks quite back on their shoulders in order to
see to the top of it. On arriving they entered the city,
and seeing a large palace before them with the door
wide open, they went in, and found a number of men
of prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall.
Going further, they came before the king, Utgard-Loki,
whom they saluted with great respect. The king, re-
garding them with a scornful smile, said, "If I do not
mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the god Thor."
Then addressing himself to Thor, he said, "Perhaps
thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. What
are the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves
skilled in, for no one is permitted to remain here who
does not, in some feat or other, excel all other men?"

"The feat that I know," said Lok^i, "is to eat quicker
than any one else, and in this I am ready to give a
proof against any one here who may choose to com-
pete with me."

"That will indeed be a feat," said Utgard-Loki, "if
thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be
tried forthwith."

He then ordered one of his men who was sitting at
the farther end of the bench, and whose name was
Logi, to come forward and try his skill with Loki. A
trough filled with meat having been set on the hall
floor, Loki placed himself at one end, and Logi at the
other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could,
until they met in the middle of the trough. But it was
found that Loki had only eaten the flesh, while his
adversary had devoured both flesh and bone, and the

340 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

trough to boot. All the company therefore adjudged
that Loki was vanquished.

Utgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man
who accompanied Thor could perform. Thialfi answered
that he would run a race with any one who might be
matched against him. The king observed that skill
in running was something to boast of, but if the youth
would win the match he must display great agility. He
then arose and went with all who were present to a
plain where there was good ground for running on, and
calling a young man named Hugi, bade him run a match
with Thialfi. In the first course Hugi so much out-
stripped his competitor that he turned back and met
him not far from the starting place. Then they ran a
second and a third time, but Thialfi met with no better
success.

Utgard-Loki then asked Thor in what feats he would
choose to give proofs of that prowess for which he
was so famous. Thor answered that he would try a.
drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki bade his
cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers
were obliged to empty when they had trespassed m any
way against the law of the feast. The cupbearer having
presented it to Thor, Utgard-Loki said, "Whoever is
a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught,
though most men make two of it, but the most puny
drinker can do it in three."

Thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no ex-
traordinary size though somewhat long; however, as
he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without
drawing breath, pulled as long and a/ deeply as he could,
that he might not be obliged to m4ke a second draught
of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in,
he could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished.

After taking breath, Thor went to it again with all
his might, but when he took the horn from his mouth,
it seemed to him that he had drunk rather less than
before, although the horn could now be carried without
spilling.

"How now, Thor?" said Utgard-Loki; "thou must
not spare thvself; if thou meanest to drain the horn

THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM 341

at the third draught thou must pull deeply; and I must
needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man
here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater
prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in
this."

Thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips,
and did his best to empty it; but on looking in found
the liquor was only a little lower, so he resolved to make
no further attempt, but gave back the horn to the cup-
bearer.

"I now see plainly," said Utgard-Loki, "that thou art
not quite so stout as we thought thee : but wilt thou
try any other feat, though methinks thou art not likely
to bear any prize away with thee hence."

"What new trial hast thou to propose?" said Thor.

"We have a very trifling game here," answered Ut-
gard-Loki, "in which we exercise none but children.
It consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground;
nor should I have dared to mention such a feat to the
great Thor if I had not already observed that thou art
by no means what we took thee for."

As he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on
the hall floor. Thor put his hand under the cat's belly
and did his utmost to raise him from the floor, but the
cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding all Thor's
efi:orts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which
Thor made no further attempt.

"This trial has turned out," said Utgard-Loki, "just
as I imagined it would. The cat is large, but Thor
is little in comparison to our men."

"Little as ye call me," answered Thor, "let me see
who among you will come hither now I am in wrath
and wrestle with me."

"I see no one here," said Utgard-Loki, looking at th?
men sitting on the benches, "who would not think it
beneath him to wrestle with thee; let somebody, how-
ever, call hither that old crone, my nurse Elli, and let
Thor wrestle with her if he will. She has thrown to
the ground many a man not less strong than this Thor

IS."

A toothless old woman then entered the hall, and

342 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

was told by Utgard-Loki to take hold of Thor. The
tale is shortly told. The more Thor tightened his hold
on the crone the firmer she stood. At length after a
very violent struggle Thor began to lose his footing,
and was finally brought down upon one knee. Utgard-
Loki then told them to desist, adding that Thor had
now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to
wrestle with him, and it was also getting late; so he
showed Thor and his companions to their seats, and they
passed the night there in good cheer.

The next morning, at break of day, Thor and his
companions dressed themselves and prepared for their
departure. Utgard-Loki ordered a table to be set for
them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink.
After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the gate of
the city, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his
journey had turned out, and whether he had met with
any men stronger than himself. Thor told him that he
could not deny but that he had brought great shame on
himself. 'And what grieves me most," he added, "is
that ye will call me a person of little worth."

"Nay," said Utgard-Loki, "it behooves me to tell thee
the truth, now thou art out of the city, which so long
as I live and have my way thou shalt never enter again.
And, by my troth, had I known beforehand that thou
hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have
brought me so near to a great mishap, I would not have
suffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have
all along deceived thee by my illusions ; first in the
forest, where I tied up the wallet with iron wire so
that thou couldst not untie it. After this thou gavest
me three blows with thy mallet; tne first, though the
least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me,
but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain,
where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remark-
ably deep. These are the dints made by thy mallet. I
have made use of similar illusions in the contests you
have had with my followers. In the first, Loki, like
hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him,
but Logi was in reality nothing else than Fire, and
therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough

THE DEATH OF BALDUR 343

which held it. Hugi, with whom Thialfi contended in
running, was Thought, and it was impossible for Thialfi
to keep pace with that. When thou in thy turn didst
attempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my
troth, a deed so maiwellous that had I not seen it my-
self I should never have believed it. For one end of that
horn reached the sea, which thou wast not aware of, but
when thou comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how
much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. Thou didst
perform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat,
and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that one of
his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-
stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality
the Midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and
he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long
enough to enclo3e it between his head and tail. Thy
wrestling with Elli was also a most astonishing feat,
for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom
Old Age, for such in fact was Elli, will not sooner or
later lay low. But now, as we are going to part, let
me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if thou
never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I
shall again defend myself by other illusions, so that
thou wilt only lose thy labor and get no fame from
the contest with me."

On hearing these words Thor in a rage laid hold of
his mallet and would have launched it at him, but
Utgard-Loki had disappeared, and when Thor would
have returned to the city to destroy it, he found noth-
ing around him but a verdant plain.

CHAPTER XL

THE DEATH OF BALDUR THE ELVES RUNIC LETTERS-
ICELAND TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY NIBELUNGEN LIED

THE DEATH OF BALDUR

Baldur the Good, having been tormented with ter-
rible dreams indicating that his life was in peril, told

344 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

them to the assembled gods, who Resolved to conjure all
things to avert from him the threatened danger. Then
Frigga, the wife of Odin, exacted an oath from fire
and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones,
trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things,
that none of them would do any harm to Baldur. Odin,
not satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the
fate of his son, determined to consult the prophetess
Angerbode, a giantess, mother of Fenris, Hela, and the
Midgard serpent. She was dead, and Odin was forced
to seek her in Hela's dominions. This Descent of Odin
forms the subject of Gray's fine ode beginning,

"Uprose the king of men with speed
And saddled straight his coal-black steed "

But the other gods, feeling that what Frigga had
done was quite sufficient, amused themselves with using
Baldur as a mark, some hurling darts at him, some
stones, while others hewed at him with their swords
and battle-axes ; for do what they would, none of them
could harm him. And this became a favorite pastime
with them and was regarded as an honor shown to
Baldur. But when Loki beheld the scene he was sorely
vexed that Baldur was not hurt. Assuming, therefore,
the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir, the man-
sion of Frigga. That goddess, when she saw the pre-
tended woman, inquired of her if she knew what the
gods were doing at their meetings. She replied that
they were throwing darts and stones at Baldur, with-
out being able to hurt him. "Ay," said Frigga, "neither
stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt Baldur,
for I have exacted an oath from all of them." "What,"
exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare
Baldur?" "All things," replied Frigga, "except one lit-
tle shrub that grows on the eastern side of Valhalla,
and is called Mistletoe, and which I thought too young
and feeble to crave an oath from."

As soon as Loki heard this he went away, and re-
suming his natural shape, cut off the mistletoe, and re-
paired to the place where the gods were assembled.
There he found Hodur standing apart, without partak-

THE DEATH OF BALDUR 345

ing of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going
up to him, said, "Why dost thou not also throw some-
thing at Baldur?"

"Because I am blind," answered Hodur, "and see
not where Baldur is, and have, moreover, nothing to
throw."

"Come, then," said Loki, "do like the rest, and show
honor to Baldur by throwing this twig at him, and I
will direct thy arm towards the place where he stands."

Hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guid-
ance of Loki, darted it at Baldur, who, pierced through
and through, fell down lifeless. Surely never was there
witnessed, either among gods or men, a more atrocious
deed than this. When Baldur fell, the gods were struck
speechless with horror, and then they looked at each
other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him
who had done the deed, but they were obliged to delay
their vengeance out of respect for the sacred place where
they were assembled. They gave vent to their grief by
loud lamentations. When the gods came to themselves,
Frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her
love and good will. "For this," said she, "sha*' he have
who will ride to Hel and offer Hela a ransom if she
will let Baldur return to Asgard." Whereupon Hermod,
surnamed the Nimble, the son of Odin, offered to un-
dertake the journey. Odin's horse, Sleipnir, which has
eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth,
on which Hermod mounted and galloped away on his
mission. For the space of nine days and as many nights
he rode through deep glens so dark that he could not
discern anything, until he arrived at the river Gyoll,
which he passed over on a bridge covered with glit-
tering gold. The maiden who kept the bridge asked him
his name and lineage, telling him that the day before
five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge,
and did not shake it as much as he alone. "But," she
added, "thou hast not death's hue on thee; why then
ridest thou here on the way to Hel?"

"I ride to Hel," answered Hermod, "to seek Baldur.
Hast thou perchance seen him pass this way?"

She replied, "Baldur hath ridden over GyoU'a bridge,

346 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

and yonder Heth the way he took to the abodes of
death."

Hermod pursued his journey until he came to the
barred gates of Hel. Here he alighted, girthed his sad-
dle tighter, and remounting clapped both spurs to his
horse, who cleared the gate by a tremendous leap with-
out touching it. Hermod then rode on to the palace,
where he found his brother Baldur occupying the most
distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in
his company. The next morning he besought Hela to let
Baldur ride home with him, assuring her that nothing
but lamentations were to be heard among the gods.
Hela answered that it should now be tried whether
Baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "If,
therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both liv-
ing and lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to
life; but if any one thing speak against him or refuse
to weep, he shall be kept in Hel."

Hermod then rode back to Asgard and gave an ac-
count of all he had heard and witnessed.

The gods upon this despatched messengers through-
out the world to beg everything to weep in order that
Baldur might be delivered from Hel. All things very
willingly complied with this request, both men and every
other living being, as well as earths, and stones, and
trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these things
weep when they are brought from a cold place into a
hot one. As the messengers were returning, they found
an old hag named Thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged
her to weep Baldur out of Hel. But , she answered,

"Thaukt will wail
With dry tears
Baldur's bale-fire.
Let Hela keep her own."

It was strongly suspected that this hag was no other
t!ian Loki himself, who never ceased to work evil among
gods and men. So Baldur was prevented from coming
back to Asgard.^

^ In Longfellow's Poems will be found a poem entitled "Tegner's Drapa,"
upon the subject of Baldur's death.

THE FUNERAL OF BALDUR 347

THE FUNERAL OF BALDUR

The gods took up the dead body and bore it to the
seashore where stood Baldur's ship "Hringham," which
passed for the largest in the world. Baldur's dead body
was put on the funeral pile, on board the ship, and his
wife Nanna was so struck with grief at the sight that
she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the
same pile as her husband's. There was a vast concourse
of various kinds of people at Baldur's obsequies. First
came Odin accompanied by Frigga, the Valkyrie, and
his ravens ; then Frey in his car drawn by Gullinbursti,
the boar; Heimdall rode his horse Gulltopp, and Freya
drove in her chariot drawn by cats. There were also a
great many Frost giants and giants of the mountain
present. Baldur's horse was led to the pile fully ca-
parisoned and consumed in the same flames with his
master.

But Loki did not escape his deserved punishment.
When he saw how angry the gods were, he fled to the
mountain, and there built himself a hut with four doors,
so that he could see every approaching danger. He in-
vented a net to catch the fishes, such as fishermen have
used since his time. But Odin found out his hiding-
place and the gods assembled to take him. He, seeing
this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among
the stones of the brook. But the gods took his net
and dragged the brook, and Loki, finding he must be
caught, tried to leap over the net ; but Thor caught him
by the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since
have had that part remarkably fine and thin. They bound
him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head.,
whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. His
wife Siguna sits by his side and catches the drops as
they fall, in a cup ; but when she carries it away to *
empty it, the venom falls upon Loki, which makes him
howl with horror, and twist his body about so violently
that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what men
call earthquakes.

348 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

THE ELVES

The Edda mentions another class of beings, inferior
to the gods, but still possessed of great power ; these
were called Elves. The white spirits, or Elves of
Light, were exceedingly fair, more brilliant than the
sun, and clad in garments of a delicate and transparent
texture. They loved the light, were kindly disposed to
mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely chil-
dren. Their country was called Alfheim, and was the
domain of Freyr, the god of the sun, in whose light
they were always sporting.

The Black or Night Elves were a different kind of
creatures. Ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown
color, they appeared only at night, for they avoided the
sun as their most deadly enemy, because whenever his
beams fell upon any of them they changed them imme-
diately into stones. Their language was the echo of
solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves
and clefts. They were supposed to have come into ex-
istence as maggots produced by the decaying flesh of
Ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the gods
with a human form and great understanding. They
were particularly distinguished for a knowledge of the
mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes which
they carved and explained. They were the most skilful
artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and
in wood. Among their most noted works were Thor's
hammer, and the ship "Skidbladnir," which they gave
to Freyr, and which was so large that it could contain
all the deities with their war and household implements,
but so skillfully was it wrought that when folded tO'
gether it could be put into a side pocket.

RAGNAROK, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS

It was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time
would come when all the visible creation, the gods of
Valhalla and Nififleheim, the inhabitants of Jotunheim,
Alfheim, and Midgard, together with their habitations,
would be destroyed. The fearful day of destruction

RAGNAROK ' 349

will not, however, be without its forerunners. First
will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall
from the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very
severe, the wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and
the sun impart no gladness. Three such winters will
pass away without being tempered by a single summer.
Three other similar winters will then follow, during
which war and discord will spread over the universe.
The earth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble,
the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and
men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air
feast upon their still quivering bodies. The wolf Fenris
will now break his bands, the Midgard serpent rise out
of her bed in the sea, and Loki, released from his bonds,
will join the enemies of the gods. Amidst the general
devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush forth un-
der their leader Surtur, before and behind whom are
flames and burning fire. Onward they ride over Bifrost,
the rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses'
hoofs. But they, disregarding its fall, direct their
course to the battlefield called Vigrid. Thither also re-
pair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard serpent, Loki with
all the followers of Hela, and the Frost giants.

Heimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn
to assemble the gods and heroes for the contest. The
gods advance, led on by Odin, who engages the wolf
Fenris, but falls a victim to the monster, who is, how-'
ever, slain by Vidar, Odin's son. Thor gains great re-
nown by killing the Midgard serpent, but recoils and
falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying
monster vomits over him. Loki and Heimdall meet
and fight till they are both slain. The gods and their
enemies having fallen in battle, Surtur, who has killed
Freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the
whole universe is burned up. The sun becomes dim,
the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven,
and time is no more.

After this Alfadur (the Almighty) will cause a new
heaven and a new earth to arise out of the sea. The
new earth filled with abundant supplies will spontane-
ously produce its fruits without labor or care. Wicked-

350 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

ness and misery will no more be known, but the gods
and men will live happily together.

RUNIC LETTERS

One cannot travel far in Denmark, Norway, or
Sweden without meeting with great stones of different
forms, engraven with characters called Runic, which
appear at first sight very different from all we know.
The letters consist almost invariably of straight lines,
in the shape of little sticks either singly or put together.
Such sticks were in early times used by the northern
nations for the purpose of ascertaining future events.
The sticks were shaken up, and from the figures that
they formed a kind of divination was derived.

The Runic characters were of various kinds. They
were chiefly used for magical purposes. The noxious,
or, as they called them, the bitter runes, were em-
ployed to bring various evils on their enemies ; the favor-
able averted misfortune. Some were medicinal, others
employed to win love, etc. In later times they were
frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a
thousand have been found. The language is a dialect of
the Gothic, called Norse, still in use in Iceland. The
inscriptions may therefore be read with certainty, but
hitherto very few have been found which throw the
least light on history. They are mostly epitaphs on
tombstones.

Gray's ode on the "Descent of Odin" contains an al-
lusion to the use of Runic letters for incantation :

"Facing to the northern clime/
Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme;
Thrice pronounced, in accents dread,
The thrilHng verse that wakes the dead,
Till from out the hollow ground
Slowly breathed a sullen sound."

THE SKALDS

The Skalds were the bards and poets of the nation,
a very important class of men in all communities in an
early stage of civilization. They are the depositaries of

TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY 55i

whatever historic lore there is, and it is their office to
mingle something of intellectual gratification with the
rude feasts of the warriors, by rehearsing, with such
accompaniments of poetry and music as their skill can
afford, the exploits of their heroes living or dead. The
compositions of the Skalds were called Sagas, many of
which have come down to us, and contain valuable ma-
terials of history, and a faithful picture of the state of
society at the time to which they relate.

ICELAND

The Eddas and Sagas have come to us from Iceland.
The following extract from Carlyle's lectures on "Heroes
and Hero Worship" gives an animated account of the
region where the strange stories we have been reading
had their origin. Let the reader contrast it for a mo-
ment with Greece, the parent of classical mythology:

"In that strange island, Iceland, burst up, the geolo-
gists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land
of barrenness and lava, swallowed many months of every
year in black tempests, yet with a wild, gleaming beauty
in summer time, towering up there stern and grim in
the North Ocean, with its snow yokuls [mountains],
roaring geysers [boiling springs], sulphur pools, and
horrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battle-
field of Frost and Fire, where, of all places, we least
looked for literature or written memorials, the record
of these things was written down. On the seaboard of
this wild land is a rim of grassy country, where cattle
can subsist, and men by means of them and of what the
sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these,
men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered music-
ally their thoughts. Much would be lost had Ice-
land not been burst up from the sea, not been discovered
by the Northmen !"

TEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY

In the mythology of Germany proper, the name of
Odin appears as Wotan ; Freya and Frigga are regarded
as one and the same divinity, and the gods are in gener-tl

352 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

represented as less warlike in character than those in
the Scandinavian myths. As a whole, however, Teu-
tonic mythology runs along almost identical lines
with that of the northern nations. The most notable
divergence is due to modifications, of the legends by
reason of the difference in climatic conditions. The
more advanced social condition of the Germans is also
apparent in their mythology.

THE NIBELUNGEN LIED

One of the oldest myths of the Teutonic race is found
in the great national epic of the Nibelungen Lied, which
dates back to the prehistoric era when Wotan, Frigga,
Thor, Loki, and the other gods and goddesses were
worshipped in the German forests. The epic is divided
into two parts, the first of which tells how Siegfried,
the youngest of the kings of the Netherlands, went to
Worms, to ask in marriage the hand of Kriemhild, sister
of Giinther, King of Burgundy. While he was staying
with Giinther, Siegfried helped the Burgundian king to
secure as his wife Brunhild, queen of Issland. The
latter had announced publicly that he only should be her
husband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing
a huge stone, and in leaping. Siegfried, who possessed
a cloak of invisibility, aided Giinther in these three con-
tests, and Brunhild became his wife. In return for these
services, Giinther gave Siegfried his sister Kriemhild in
marriage.

After some time had elapsed, Siegfried and Kriem-
hild went to visit Giinther, when the two women fell into
a dispute about the relative merits oi their husbands.
Kriemhild, to exalt Siegfried, boasted that it was to the
latter that Giinther owed his victories and his wife.
Brunhild, in great anger, employed Hagan, liegeman of
Giinther, to murder Siegfried. In the epic Hagan is de-
scribed as follows :

"Well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest;
Long were his legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest;
His hair, that once was sable, with gray was dashed of late;
Most terrible his visage, and lordly was his gait."

Nibelungen Lied, stanza 1789.

A VALKYR.
From paintings by V. N. Arbo.

LlJ
C3

Z

UJ

I
UJ

z
o

H

a
a
u
it

THE NIBELUNGEN HOARD 353

This Achilles of German romance stabbed Siegfried
between the shoulders, as the unfortunate King of the
Netherlands was stooping to drink from a brook during
a hunting expedition.

The second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years
later, Kriemhild married Etzel, King of the Huns.
After a time, she invited the King of Burgundy, with
Hagan and many others, to tJie court of her husband.
A fearful quarrel was stirred up in the banquet hall,
which ended in the slaughter of all the Burgundians but
Giinther and Hagan. These two weretaken prisoners
and given to Kriemhild, who with her own hand cut off
the heads of both. For this bloody act of vengeanc*?
Kriemhild was herself slain by Hildebrand, a magician
and champion, who in German mythology holds a place
to an extent corresponding to that of Nestor in the
Greek mythology.

THE NIBELUNGEN HOARD

This was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones
which Siegfried obtained from the Nibelungs, the people
of the north whom he had conquered and whose country
he had made tributary to his own kingdom of the Nether-
lands. Upon his marriage, Siegfried gave the treasure
to Kriemhild as her wedding portion. After the murder
of Siegfried, Hagan seized it and buried it secretly be-
neath the Rhine at Lochham, intending to recover it at
a future period. The hoard was lost forever when
Hagan was killed by Kriemhild. Its wonders are thus
set forth in the poem :

" 'Twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights
and days
Could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay;
Though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day.

"It was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold;
Were all the world bought from it, and down the value told,
Not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, I
ween."

Nibelungen Lied, XIX.

354 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Whoever possessed the Nibelungen hoard were
termed Nibelungers. Thus at one time certain people
of Norway were so called. When Siegfried held the
treasure he received the title "King of the Nibelungers."

Wagner's nibelungen ring

Though Richard Wagner's music-drama of the Nibe-
lungen Ring bears some resemblance to the ancient Ger-
man epic, it is a wholly independent composition and
was derived from various old songs and sagas, which
the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story.
The principal source was the Volsunga Saga, while
lesser parts were taken from the Elder Edda and the
Younger Edda, and others from the Nibelungen Lied,
the Ecklenlied, and other Teutonic folklore.

In the drama there are at first only four distinct races,
the gods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs.
Later, by a special creation, there come the valkyrie and
the heroes. The gods are the noblest and highest race,
and dwell first in the mountain meadows, later in the
palace of Valhalla on the heights. The giants are a
great and strong race, but lack wisdom ; they hate wliat
is noble, and are enemies of the gods ; they dwell in caves
near the earth's surface. The dwarfs, or nihelnngs, are
black uncouth pigmies, hating the good, hating the gods ;
they are crafty and cunning, and dwell in the bowels of
the earth. The nymphs are pure, innocent creatures of
the Avater. The valkyrie are daughters of the gods, but
mingled with a mortal strain ; they gather dead heroes
from the battle-fields and carry them to Valhalla. The
heroes are children of the gods, but also mingled with
a mortal strain; they are destined tp^ become at last the
highest race of all, and to succeed the gods in the govern-
ment of the world.

The principal gods are Wotan, Loki, Donner, and
Froh. The chief giants are Fafner and Fasolt, brothers.
The chief dwarfs are Alberich and Mime, brothers, and
later Hagan, son of Alberich. The chief nymphs are
the Rhine-daughters, Flosshilda, Woglinda, and Well-
gunda. There are nine A^alkyrie, of whom Brunhild
is the leading one.

WAGNER'S NIBELUNGEN RING 355

Wagner's story of the Ring may be summarized as
follows :

A hoard of gold exists in the depths of the Rhine,
guarded by the innocent Rhine-maidens. Alberich, the
dwarf, forswears love to gain this gold. He makes it
into a magic ring. It gives him all power, and he gathers
by it a vast amount of treasures.

Meanwhile Wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the
giants to build for him a noble castle, V'alhalla, from
whence to rule the world, promising in payment Freya,
goddess of youth and love. But the gods find they cannot
spare Freya, as they are dependent on her for their im-
mortal youth. Loki, called upon to provide a substitute,
tells of Alberich's magic ring and other treasure. Wotan
goes with Loki, and they steal the ring and the golden
hoard from Alberich, who curses the ring and lays the
curse on all who shall henceforth possess it. The gods
give the ring and the treasure to the giants as a sub-
stitute for Freya. The curse at once begins. One giant,
Fafner, kills his brother to get all, and transforms him-
self into a dragon to guard his wealth. The gods enter
Valhalla over the rainbow bridge. This ends the first
part of the drama, called the Rhine-Gold.

The second part, the Valkyrie, relates how Wotan still
covets the ring. He cannot take it himself, for he has
given his word to the giants. He stands or falls by his
word. So he devises an artifice to get the ring. He
will get a hero-race to work for him and recover the
ring and the treasures. Siegmund and Sieglinda are
twin children of this new race. Sieglinda is carried off
as a child and is forced into marriage with Hunding.
Siegmimd comes, and unknowingly breaks the law of
marriage, but wins Nothung, the great sword,
and a bride. Brunhild, chief of the Valkyrie, is com-
missioned by Wotan at the instance of Fricka, god-
dess of marriage, to slay him for his sin. She disobeys
and tries to save him, but Hunding, helped by Wotan,
slays him. Sieglinda, however, about to bear the free
hero, to be called Siegfried, is saved by Brunhild, and
hid in ihe forest. Brunhild herself is ])unished by
being made a mortal woman. She is left sleeping on the

356 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

mountains with a wall of fire around her which only a
hero can penetrate.

The drama continues with the story of Siegfried,
which opens with a scene in the smithy between Mime
th^ dwarf and Siegfried. Mime is welding a sword,
and Siegfried scorns him. Mime tells him something of
his mother, Sieglinda, and shows him the broken pieces
of his father's sword. Wotan comes and tells Mime that
only one who has no fear can remake the sword. Now
Siegfried knows no fear and soon remakes the sword
Nothung. Wotan and Alberich come to where the
dragon Fafner is guarding the ring. They both long for
it, but neither can take it. Soon Mime comes bringing
Siegfried with the mighty sword. Fafner comes out, but
Siegfried slays him. Happening to touch his lips with
the dragon's blood, he understands the language of the
birds. They tell him of the ring. He goes and gets it.
Siegfried now has possession of the ring, but it is to
bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. It is to curse
love and finally bring death. The birds also tell him of
Mime's treachery. He slays Mime. He longs for some
one to love. The birds tell him of the slumbering
Brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries.

The Dusk of the Gods portrays at the opening the
three norns or fates weaving and measuring the thread
of destiny. It is the beginning of the end. The perfect
pair, Siegfried and Brunhild, appear in all the glory
of their life, splendid ideals of manhood and womanhood.
But Siegfried goes out into the world to achieve deeds
of prowess. He gives her the Nibelungen ring to keep
as a pledge of his love till his return. Meanwhile Al-
berich also has begotten a son, Hagafi, to achieve for
him the possession of the ring. He is partly of the
Gibichung race, and works through Giinther and Gut-
rune, half-brother and half-sister to him. They beguile
Siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which
makes him forget Brunhild and fall in love with Guf-
rune. Under this same spell, he offers to bring Brun-
hild for wife to Giinther. Now is Valhalla full of
sorrow and despair. The gods fear the end. Wotan
murmurs, "O that she would give back the ring to the

WAGNER'S NIBELUNGEN RING 357

Rhine." But Brunhild will not give it up, it is now
her pledge of love. Siegfried comes, takes the ring, and
Brunhild is now brought to the Rhine castle of the
Gibichungs, but Siegfried under the spell does not love
her. She is to be wedded to Giinther. She rises in
wrath and denounces Siegfried. But at a hunting ban-
quet Siegfried is given another magic draught, remem-
bers all, and is slain by Hagan by a blow in the back, as
he calls on Brunhild's name in love. Then comes the
end. The body of Siegfried is burned on a funeral
pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and Brunhild
rides into the flames and sacrifices herself for love's
sake ; the ring goes back to the Rhine-daughters ; and
the old world of the gods of Valhalla, of passion and
sin is burnt up with flames, for the gods have broken
moral law, and coveted power rather than love, gold
rather than truth, and therefore must perish. They pass,
and a new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun.

Those who wish to study the differences in the legends
of the Nibelungen Lied and the Nibelungen Ring, and
the way in which Wagner used his ancient material, are
referred to Professor W. C. Sawyer's book on "Teu-
tonic Legends in the Nibelungen Lied and the Nibe-
lungen Ring," where the matter is treated in full detail.
For a very thorough and clear analysis of the Ring as
Wagner gives it, with a study of the musical motifs,
probably nothing is better for general re^d^rs than
the volume "The Epic of Sounds," by Freda Winworth.
The more scholarly work of Professor Lavi^nac is indis-
pensable for the student of Wagner's dramas. There
is much illuminating comment on the sources and ma-
terials in "Legends of the Wagner Drama" by J. L.
Weston.

358 STORIES OK GODS AND HEROES

CHAPTER XLI

THE DRUIDS lONA

DRUIDS

The Druids were the priests or ministers of religion
among the ancient CeUic nations in Gaul, Britain, and
Germany. Our information respecting them is bor-
rowed from notices in the Greek and Roman writers,
compared with the remains of Welsh and Gaelic poetry
still extant.

The Druids combined the functions of the priest, the
magistrate, the scholar, and the physician. They stood
to the people of the Celtic tribes in a relation closely
analogous to that in which the Brahmans of India, the
Magi of Persia, and the priests of the Egyptians stood
to the people respectively by whom they were revered.

The Druids taught the existence of one god, to whom
they gave a name "Be' al," which Celtic antiquaries tell
us means "the life of everything," or "the source of all
beings," and which seems to have affinity with the
Phoenician Baal. What renders this affinity more strik-
ing is that the Druids as well as the Phoenicians identi-
fied this, their supreme deity, with the Sun. Fire was
regarded as a symbol of the divinity. The Latin writers
assert that the Druids also worshipped numerous in-
ferior gods.

They used no images to represent the object of their
worship, nor did they meet in teni|*les or buildings of
any kind for the performance of their sacred rites. A
circle of stones (each stone generally of vast size), en-
closing an area of from twenty feet to thirty yards in
diameter, constituted their sacred place. The most cele-
brated of these now remaining is Stonehenge, on Salis-
bury Plain, England.

These sacred circles were generally situated near
some stream, or under the shadow of a grove or wide-
spreading oak. In the centre of the circle stood the

DRUIDS 359

Cromlech or altar, which was a large stone, placed in
the manner of a table upon other stones set up on end.
The Druids had also their high places, which were
large stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills.
These were called Cairns, and were used in the worship
of the deity under the symbol of the sun.

That the Druids offered sacrifices to their deity there
can be no doubt. But there is some uncertainty as to
what they offered, and of the ceremonies connected with
their religious services we know almost nothing. The
classical (Roman) writers affirm that they offered on
great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war
or for relief from dangerous diseases. Cassar has given
a detailed account of the manner in which this was done.
"They have images of immense size, the limbs of which
are framed with twisted twigs and filled with living per-
sons. These being set on fire, those within are encom-
passed by the flames." Many attempts have been made
by Celtic writers to shake the testimony of the Roman
historians to this fact, but without success.

The Druids observed two festivals in each year. The
former took place in the beginning of May, and was
called Beltane or "fire of God." On this occasion a
large fire was kindled on some elevated spot, in honor
of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus wel-
comed after the gloom and desolation of winter. Of
this custom a trace remains in the name given to Whit-
sunday in parts of Scotland to this day. Sir Walter
Scott uses the word in the "Boat Song" in the "Lady
of the Lake" :

"Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane in winter to fade ;" etc.

The other great festival of the Druids was called
"Samh'in," or "fire of peace," and was held on Hallow-
eve (first of November), which still retains this designa-
tion in the Llighlands of Scotland. On this occasion the
Druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the most cen-
tral part of the district, to discharge the judicial func-
tions of their order. All cjuestions, whether public or

360 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

private, all crimes against person or property, were at
this time brought before them for adjudication. With
these judicial acts were combined certain superstitious
usages, especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from
which all the fires in the district, which had been before-
hand scrupulously extinguished, might be relighted. This
usage of kindling fires on Hallow-eve lingered in the
British islands long after the establishment of Chris-
tianity.

Besides these two great annual festivals, the Druids
were in the habit of observing the full moon, and espe-
cially the sixth day of the moon. On the latter they
sought the Mistletoe, which grew on their favorite oaks,
and to which, as well as to the oak itself, they ascribed
a peculiar virtue and sacredness. The discover}^ of it
was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship.
"They call it," says Pliny, "by a word in their language,
which means 'heal-all,' and having made solemn prep-
aration for feasting and sacrifice under the tree, they
drive thither two milk-white bulls, whose horns are then
for the first time bound. The priest then, robed in
white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with
a golden sickle. It is caught in a white mantle, after
which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time
praying that God would render his gift prosperous to
those to whom he had given it." They drink the water
in which it has been infused, and think it a remedy for
all diseases. The mistletoe is a parasitic plant, and is
not always nor often found on the oak, so that when
it is found it is the more precious.

The Druids were the teachers of morality as well as
of religion. Of their ethical teaching a valuable speci-
men is preserved in the Triads of the Welsh Bards,
and from this we may gather that their views of moral
rectitude were on the whole just, and that they held
and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles
of conduct. They were also the men of science and
learning of their age and people. Whether they were
acquainted with letters or not has been disputed, though
the probability is strong that they were, to some extent.
But it is certain that they committed nothing of their

DRUIDS , 361

doctrine, their history, or their poetry to writing. Their
teaching was oral, and their literature (if such a word
may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by
tradition. But the Roman writers admit that "they paid
much attention to the order and laws of nature, and in-
vestigated and taught to the youth under their charge
many things concerning the stars and their motions, the
size of the world and the lands, and concerning the
might and power of the immortal gods."

Their history consisted in traditional tales, in which
the heroic deeds of their forefathers were celebrated.
These were apparently in verse, and thus constituted
part of the poetry as well as the history of the Druids.
In the poems of Ossian we have, if not the actual pro-
ductions of Druidical times, what may be considered
faithful representations of the songs of the Bards.

The Bards were an essential part of the Druidical
hierarchy. One author, Pennant, says, "The Bards
were supposed to be endowed with powers equal to
inspiration. They were the oral historians of all past
transactions, public and private. They were also ac-
complished genealogists," etc.

Pennant gives a minute account of the Eisteddfods
or sessions of the Bards and minstrels, which were held
in Wales for many centuries, long after the Druidical
priesthood in its other departments became extinct. At
these meetings none but Bards of merit were suffered to
rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of skill to perform.'
Judges were appointed to decide on their respective
rbilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. In the
earlier period the judges were appointed by the Welsh
princes, and after the conquest of Wales, by commis-
sion from the kings of England. Yet the tradition is
that Edward I., in revenge for the influence of the
Bards in animating the resistance of the people to his
sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. This tra-
dition has furnished the poet Gray with the subject of
his celebrated ode, the "Bard."

There are still occasional meetings of the lovers of
vVelsh poetry and music, held under the ancient name.
Among Mrs. Hcmans' poems is one written for an

362 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

Eisteddfod, or meeting of Welsh Bards, held in Lon-
don, May 22, 1822. It begins with a description of
the ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a
part:

". . . midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied
The crested Roman in his hour of pride;
And where the Druid's ancient cromlech frowned,
And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round,
There thronged the inspired of yore ! on plain or height,
In the sun's face, beneath the eye of light,
And baring unto heaven each noble head,
Stood in the circle, where none else might tread."

The Driiidical system was at its height at the time
of the Roman invasion under Julius Caesar. Against
the Druids, as their chief enemies, these conquerors of
the v/orld directed their unsparing fury. The Druids,
harassed at all points on the mainland, retreated to
Anglesey and lona, where for a season they found shel-
ter and continued their now dishonored rites.

The Druids retained their predominance in lona and
over the adjacent islands and mainland until they were
supplanted and their superstitions overturned by the
arrival of St. Columba, the apostle of the Highlands,
by whom the inhabitants of that district were first led
to profess Christianity.

lONA

One of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near
a rugged and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous
seas, and possessing no sources of internal wealth, lona
has obtained an imperishable place/ in history as the
seat of civilization and religion at a time when the
darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole of
Northern Europe. lona or Icolmkill is situated at the
extremity of the island of Mull, from which it is sep-
arated by a strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance
from the mainland of Scotland being thirty-six miles.

Columba was a native of Ireland, and connected by
birth with the princes of the land. Ireland was at
that time a land of gospel light, while the vv'estern and

lONA 363

northern parts of Scotland were still immersed in the
darkness of heathenism. Columba with twelve friends
landed on the island of lona in the year of our Lord
563, having made the passage in a wicker boat cov-
ered with hides. The Druids who occupied the island
endeavored to prevent his settling there, and the savage
nations on the adjoining shores incommoded him with
their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his
life by their attacks. Yet by his perseverance and zeal
he surmounted all opposition, procured from the king
a gift of the island, and established there a monastery
of which he was the abbot. He was unwearied in his
labors to disseminate a knowledge of the Scriptures
throughout the Highlands and islands of Scotland, and
such was the reverence paid him that though not a
bishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire
province with its bishops was subject to him and his
successors. The Pictish monarch was so impressed with
a sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in
the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and
princes sought his counsel and availed themselves of
his judgment in settling their disputes.

When Columba landed on lona he was attended by
twelve followers whom he had formed into a religious
body of which he was the head. To these, as occa-
sion required, others were from time to time added, so
that the original number was always kept up. Their
institution was called a monastery and the superior
an abbot, but the system had little in common with the
monastic institutions of later times. The name by which
those who submitted to the rule were known was that
of Culdees, probably from the Latin "cultores Dei"
worshippers of God. They were a body of religious
persons associated together for the purpose of aiding
each other in the common work of preaching the gos-
pel and teaching youth, as well as maintaining in them-
selves the fervor of devotion by united exercises of wor-
ship. On entering the order certain vows were taken
by the members, but they were not those which were
usually imposed by monastic orders, for of these, which
are three, celibacy, poverty, and obedience. the Cul-

364 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

dees were bound to none except the third. To poverty
they did not bind themselves ; on the contrary they seem
to have labored diligently to procure for themselves and
those dependent on them the comforts, of life. Mar-
riage also was allowed them, and most of them seem
to have entered into that state. True, their wives were
not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but
they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent
locality. Near lona there is an island which still bears the
name of "Eilen nam ban," women's island, where their
husbands seem to have resided with them, except when
duty required their presence in the school or the sanc-
tuary.

Campbell, in his poem of "Reullura," alludes to the
married monks of lona :

". . . The pure Culdees

Were Albyn's earliest priests of God,
Ere yet an island of her seas

By foot of Saxon monk was trod,
Long ere her churchmen by bigotry
Were barred from holy wedlock's tie.
'Twas then that Aodh, famed afar,

In lona preached the word with power,
And Reullura, beauty's star,

Was the partner of his bower."

In one of his "Irish Melodies," Moore gives the leg-
end of St. Senanus and the lady who sought shelter on
the island, but was repulsed:

"O, haste and leave this sacred isle,
Unholy bark, ere morning smile;
For on thy deck, though dark it be,

A female form I see ; /
And I have sworn this sainted sod
Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod."

In these respects and in others the Culdees departed
from the established rules of the Romish church, and
consequently were deemed heretical. The consequence
was that as the power of the latter advanced that of the
Culdees was enfeebled. It was not. however, till the
thirteenth century that the communities of the Culdees

lONA ' 365

were suppressed and the members dispersed. They still
continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads
of Papal usurpation as they best might till the light of
the Reformation dawned on the world.

lona, from its position in the western seas, was ex-
posed to the assaults of the Norwegian and Danish rov-
ers by whom those seas were infested, and by them it
was repeatedly pillaged, its dwellings burned, and its
peaceful inhabitants put to the sword. These unfav-
orable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which
was expedited by the subversion of the Culdees through-
out Scotland. Under the reign of Popery the island
became the seat of a nunnery, the ruins of which are
still seen. At the Reformation, the nuns were allowed
to remain, living in community, when the abbey was
dismantled.

lona is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on ac-
count of the numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral re-
mains which are found upon it. The principal of these
are the Cathedral or Abbey Church and the Chapel of
the Nunnery. Besides these remains of ecclesiastical
antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and point-
ing to the existence on the island of forms of worship
and belief different from those of Christianity. These
are the circular Cairns which are found in various parts,
and which seem to have been of Druidical origin. It is
in reference to all these remains of ancient religion that
Johnson exclaims, "That man is little to be envied whose
patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of
Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid
the ruins of lona."

In the "Lord of the Isles" Scott beautifully contrasts
the church on lona with the cave of Staffa, opposite :

"Nature herself, it seemed, would raise
A minister to her Maker's praise!
Not for a meaner use ascend
Her columns, or her arches bend;
Nor of a theme less solemn tells
That mighty surge that ebbs and swells,
And still between each awful pause,
From the high vault an answer draws.

366 STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES

In varied tone, prolonged and high,

That mocks the organ's melody;

Nor doth its entrance front in vain

To old lona's holy fane.

That Nature's voice might seem to say,

Well hast thou done, frail child of clay !

Thy humble powers that stately shrine

Tasked high and hard but witness mine!"

KING ARTHUR AND HIS
KNIGHTS

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

On the decline of the Roman power, about five cen-
turies after Christ, the countries of Northern Europe
were left almost destitute of a national government.
Numerous chiefs, more or less powerful, held local
sway, as far as each could enforce his dominion, and
occasionally those chiefs would unite for a common
object; but, in ordinary times, they were much more
likely to be found in hostility to one another. In such
a state of things the rights of the humbler classes of
society were at the mercy of every assailant ; and it is
plain that, without some check upon the lawless power
of the chiefs, society must have relapsed into barbarism.
Such checks were found, first, in the rivalry of the chiefs
themselves, whose mutual jealousy made them restraints
upon one another; secondly, in the influence of the
Church, which, by every motive, pure or selfish, was
pledged to interpose for the protection of the weak ;
and lastly, in the generosity and sense of right which,
however crushed under the weight of passion and
selfishness, dwell naturally in the heart of man. From
this last source sprang Chivalry, which framed an ideal
of the heroic character, combining invincible strength
and valor, justice, modesty, loyalty to superiors, cour-
tesy to equals, compassion to weakness, and devotedness
to the Church ; an ideal which, if never met with in real
life, was 'acknowledged by all as the highest model for
emulation,

367

368 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

The word "Chivalry" is derived from the French
"cheval," a horse. The word "knight," which origi-
nally meant boy or servant, was particularly applied to
a young man after he was admitted to the privilege
of bearing arms. This privilege was conferred on youths
of family and fortune only, for the mass of the people
were not furnished with arms. The knight then was
a mounted warrior, a man of rank, or in the service
and maintenance of some man of rank, generally pos-
sessing some independent means of support, but often
relying mainly on the gratitude of those whom he served
for the supply of his wants, and often, no doubt, re-
sorting to the means which power confers on its pos-
sessor.

In time of war the knight was, with his followers,
in the camp of his sovereign, or commanding in the
field, or holding some castle for him. In time of peace
he was often in attendance at his sovereign's court,
gracing with his presence the banquets and tournaments
with which princes cheered their leisure. Or he was
traversing the country in quest of adventure, professedly
bent on redressing wrongs and enforcing rights, some-
times in fulfilment of some vow of religion or of love.
These wandering knights were called knights-errant ;
they were welcome guests in the castles of the no-
bility, for their presence enlivened the dulness of those
secluded abodes, and they were received with honor
at the abbeys, which often owed the best part of their
revenues to the patronage of the knights ; but if no
castle or abbey or hermitage were at hand their hardy
habits made it not intolerable to them to lie down,
supperless, at the foot of some way/ide cross, and pass
the night.

It is evident that the justice administered by such an
instrumentality must have been of the rudest descrip-
tion. The force whose legitimate purpose was to re-
dress wrongs might easily be perverted to inflict them.
Accordingly, we find in the romances, which, however
fabulous in facts, are true as pictures of manners, that
a knightly castle was often a terror to the surrounding
country; that is, dungeons were full of oppressed

KING ARTHURS STATUE AT INNSBRUCK.
From a photograph.

THE BEGUILING OF MERLIN.
From painting by Sir Edwin Burne-Jones,

INTRODUCTION 369

knights and ladies, waiting for some champion to appear
to set them free, or to be ransomed with money ; that
hosts of idle retainers were ever at hand to enforce
their lord's behests, regardless of law and justice; and
that the rights of the unarmed multitude were of no
account. This contrariety of fact and theory in regard
to chivalry will account for the opposite impressions
which exist in men's minds respecting it. While it has
been the theme of the most fervid eulogium on the one
part, it has been as eagerly denounced on the other.
On a cool estimate, we cannot but see reason to con-
gratulate ourselves that it has given way in modern
times to the reign of law, and that the civil magistrate,
if less picturesque, has taken the place of the mailed
champion.

THE TRAINING OF A KNIGHT

The preparatory education of candidates for knight-
hood was long and arduous. At seven years of age
the noble children were usually removed from their
father's house to the court or castle of- their future
patron, and placed under the care of a governor, who
taught them the first articles of religion, and respect
and reverence for their lords and superiors, and initiated
them in the ceremonies of a court. They were called
pag^es, valets, or varlcts, and their office was to car\'e,
to wait at table, and to perform other menial services,
which were not then considered humiliating. In theit
leisure hours they learned to dance and play on the harp,
were instructed in the mysteries of zuoods and rivers,
that is, in hunting, falconry, and fishing, and in wrest-
ling, tilting with spears, and performing other military
exercises on horseback. At fourteen the page became
an esquire, and began a course of severer and more
laborious exercises. To vault on a horse in heavy
armor; to run, to scale walls, and spring over ditches,
under the same encumbrance ; to wrestle, to wield the
battle-axe for a length of time, without raising the visor
or taking breath ; to perform with grace all tlie evolu-
tions of horsemanship, were necessary preliminaries to

370 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

the reception of knighthood, which was usually conferred
at twenty-one years of age, when the young man's edu-
cation was supposed to be completed. In the mean-
time, the esquires were no less assiduously engaged in
acquiring all those refinements of civility which formed
what was in that age called courtesy. The same castle
in which they received their education was usually
thronged with young persons of the other sex, and the
page was encouraged, at a very early age, to select
some lady of the court as the mistress of his heart,
to whom he was taught to refer all his sentiments, words,
and actions. The service of his mistress was the glory
and occupation of a knight, and her smiles, bestowed at
once by affection and gratitude, were held out as the
recompense of his well-directed valor. Religion united
its influence with those of loyalty and love, and the
order of knighthood, endowed with all the sanctity and
religious awe that attended the priesthood, became an
object of ambition to the greatest sovereigns.

The ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn.
After undergoing a severe fast, and spending whole
nights in prayer, the candidate confessed, and received
the sacrament. He then clothed himself in snow-white
garments, and repaired to the church, or the hall, where
the ceremony was to take place, bearing a knightly
sword suspended from his neck, which the officiating
priesif took and blessed, and then returned to ,him. The
candidate then, with folded arms, knelt before the pre-
siding knight, who, after some questions about his mo-
tives and purposes in requesting admission, adminis-
tered to him the oaths, and granted bis request. Some
of the knights present, sometimes even ladies and dam-
sels, handed to him in succession the spurs, the coat of
mail, the hauberk, the armlet and gauntlet, and lastly
he girded on the sword. He then knelt again before
the president, who, rising from his seat, gave him the
"accolade," which consisted of three strokes, with the
flat of a sword, on the shoulder or neck of the can-
didate, accompanied by the words : "In the name of
God, of St. Michael, and St. George, I make thee a
knight ; be valiant, courteous, and loyal !" Then he re-

INTRODUCTION 371

ceived his helmet, his shield, and spear; and thus the
investiture ended.

FREEMEN, VILLAINS, SERFS, AND CLERKS

The other classes of which society was composed
were, first, freemen, owners of small portions of land
independent, though they sometimes voluntarily became
the vassals of their more opulent neighbors, whose
power was necessary for their protection. The other
two classes, which were much the most numerous, were
either serfs or villains, both of which were slaves.

The serfs were in the lowest state of slavery. All
the fruits of their labor belonged to the master whose
land they tilled, and by whom they were fed and clothed.

The villains were less degraded. Their situation
seems to have resembled that of the Russian peasants
at this day. Like the serfs, they were attached to the
soil, and were transferred with it by purchase ; but they
paid only a fixed rent to the landlord, and had a
right to dispose of any surplus that might arise from
their industry.

The term "clerk" was of very extensive import. It
comprehended, originally, such persons only as belonged
to the clergy, or clerical order, among whom, however,
might be found a multitude of married persons, artisans
or others. But in process of time a much wider rule
was established ; every one that could read being ac-
counted a clerk or clericus, and allowed the "benefit
of clergy," that is, exemption from capital and some
other forms of punishment, in case of crime.

TOURNAMENTS

The splendid pageant of a tournament between
knights, its gaudy accessories and trappings, and its
chivalrous regulations, originated in France. Tourna-
ments were repeatedly condemned by the Church,
probably on account of the quarrels they led to, and
the often fatal results. The "joust," or "just," was

372 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

different from the tournament. In these, knights fought
with their lances, and their object was to unhorse their
antagonists; while the tournaments were intended for
a display of skill and address in evolutions, and with
various weapons, and greater courtesy was observed in
the regulations. By these it was forbidden to wound
the horse, or to use the point of the sword, or to strike
a knight after he had raised his vizor, or unlaced his
helmet. The ladies encouraged their knights in these
exercises; they bestowed prizes, and the conqueror's
feats were the theme of romance and song. The stands
overlooking the ground, of course, were varied in the
shapes of towers, terraces, galleries, and pensile gardens,
magnificently decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and
banners. Every combatant proclaimed the name of the
lady whose servant d' amour he was. He was wont to
look up to the stand, and strengthen his courage by
the sight of the bright eyes that were raining their in-
fluence on him from above. The knights also carried
favors, consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets,
clasps, in short, some piece of female habiliment, at-
tached to their helmets, shields, or armor. If, during
the combat, any of these appendages were dropped or
lost the fair donor would at times send her knight new
ones, especially if pleased with his exertions.

MAIL ARMOR

Mail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and
which derived its name from maille, a French word for
mesh, was of two kinds, plate or scale mail, and chain
mail. It was originally used for the^ protection of the
body only, reaching no lower than the knees. It was
shaped like a carter's frock, and bound round the waist
by a girdle. Gloves and hose of mail were afterwards
added, and a hood, which, when necessary, was drawn
over the head, leaving the face alone uncovered. To
protect the skin from the impression of the iron net-
work of the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed,
which, however, was insufficient, and the bath was used
to efface the marks of the armor.

INTRODUCTION Z7Z

The hauberk was a complete covering of double chain
mail. Some hauberks opened before, like a modern
coat; others were closed like a shirt.

The chain mail of which they were composed was
formed by a number of iron links, each link having
others inserted into it, the whole exhibiting a kind of
network, of which (in some instances at least) the
meshes were circular, with each link separately riveted.

The hauberk was proof against the most violent blow
of a sword ; but the point of a lance might pass through
the meshes, or drive the iron into the flesh. To guard
against this, a thick and well-stuffed doublet was worn
underneath, under which was commonly added an iron
breastplate. Hence the expression "to pierce both plate
and mail," so common in the earlier poets.

Mail armor continued in general use till about the
year 1300, when it was gradually supplanted by plate
armor, or suits consisting of pieces or plates of solid
iron, adapted to the different parts of the body.

Shields were generally made of wood, covered with
leather, or some similar substance. To secure them, in
some sort, from being cut through by the sword, they
were surrounded with a hoop of metal.

HELMETS

The helmet was composed of two parts : the head-
piece, which was strengthened within by several circles
of iron, and the visor, which, as the name implies, was
a sort of grating to see through, so contrived as, by
sliding in a groove, or turning on a pivot, to be raised
or lowered at pleasure. Some helmets had a further
improvement called a bever, from th-e Italian bevere, to
drink. The vcntayle, or "air-passage," is another name
for this.

To secure the helmet from the possibility of falling,
or of being struck off, it was tied by several laces to
the meshes of the hauberk ; consequently, when a knight
was overthrown it was necessary to undo these laces
before he could be put to death ; though this was some-
times effected by lifting up the skirt of the hauberk,

374 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

and stabbing him in the belly. The instrument of death
was a small dagger, worn on the right side.

ROMANCES

In ages when there were no books, when noblemen
and princes themselves could not read, history or tra-
dition was monopolized by the story-tellers. They in-
herited, generation after generation, the wondrous tales
of their predecessors, which they retailed to the public
with such additions of their own as their acquired in-
formation supplied them with. Anachronisms became
of course very common, and errors of geography, of lo-
cality, of manners, equally so. Spurious genealogies
were invented, in which Arthur and his knights, and
Charlemagne and his paladins, were made to derive their
descent from ^neas, Hector, or some other of the
Trojan heroes.

With regard to the derivation of the word "Romance,"
we trace it to the fact that the dialects which were
formed in Western Europe, from the admixture of
Latin with the native languages, took the name of
Langue Romaine. The French language was divided
into two dialects'. The river Loire was their common
boundary. In the provinces to the south of that river
the affirmative, yes, was expressed by the word oc; in
the north it was called oil (oiii) ; and hence Dante has
named the southern language langue d'oc, and the north-
ern langue d'oil. The latter, which was carried into
England by the Normans, and is the origin of the pres-
ent French, may be called the French Romane ; and
the former the Proven(;al, or Provencial Romane, be-
cause it was spoken by the people of Provence and
Languedoc, southern provinces of France.

These dialects were soon distinguished by very op-
posite characters. A soft and enervating climate, a
spirit of commerce encouraged by an easy communica-
tion with other maritime nations, the influx of wealth,
and a more settled government, may have tended to
polish and soften the diction of the Provencials, whose
ooets, under the name of Troubadours, were the mas-

INTRODUCTION ^ 375

ters of the Italians, and particularly of Petrarch. Their
favorite pieces were Sirveiites (satirical pieces), love-
songs, and Tensons, which last were a sort of dialogue
in verse between two poets, who questioned each other
on some refined points of loves' casuistry. It seems the
Provencials were so completely absorbed in these deli-
cate questions as to neglect and despise the composition
of fabulous histories of adventure and knighthood, which
they left in a great measure to the poets of the north-
ern part of the kingdom, called Trouveurs.

At a time when chivalry excited universal admira-
tion, and when all the efforts of that chivalry were
directed against the enemies of religion, it was natural
that literature should receive the same impulse, and
that history and fable should be ransacked to furnish
examples of courage and piety that might excite in-
creased emulation. Arthuf and Charlemagne were the
two heroes selected for this purpose. Arthur's preten-
sions were that he was a brave, though not always a
successful warrior; he had withstood with great resolu-
tion the arms of the infidels, that is to say of the Saxons,
and his memory was held in the highest estimation by
his countrymen, the Britons, who carried with them into
Wales, and into the kindred country of Armorica, or
Brittany, the memory of his exploits, which their na-
tional vanity insensibly exaggerated, till the little prince
of the Silures (South Wales) was magnified into the
conqueror of England, of Gaul, and of the greater part
of Europe. His genealogy was gradually carried up to
an imaginary Brutus, and to the period of the Trojan
war, and a sort of chronicle was composed in the Welsh,
or Armorican language, which, under the pompous title
of the "History of the Kings of Britain," was translated
into Latin by Geoffrey of Monmouth, about the year
1150. The Welsh critics consider the material of the
work to have been an older history, written by St. Talian,
Bishop of St. Asaj)h, in the seventh century.

As to Charlemagne, though his real merits were suf-
ficient to secure his immortality, it was imi)0ssible tb.at
his holy zvars against the Saracens should not ])ecome
a favorite topic for liction. Accordingly, the fabulous

376 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

history of these wars was written, probably towards
the close of the eleventh century, by a monk, who. think-
ing it would add dignity to his work to embellish it with
a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to Turpin, who
was Archbishop of Rheims about the year 773.

These fabulous chronicles were for a while impris-
oned in languages of local only or of professional ac-
cess. Both Turpin and Geoffrey might indeed be read
by ecclesiastics, the sole Latin scholars of those times,
and Geoffrey's British original would contribute to the
gratification of Welshmen ; but neither could become
extensively popular till translated into some language of
general and familiar use. The Anglo-Saxon was at that
time used only by a conquered and enslaved nation;
the Spanish and Italian languages were not yet formed;
the Norman French alone was spoken and understood
by the nobility in the greater part of Europe, and there-
fore was a proper vehicle for the new mode of com-
position.

That language was fashionable in England before the
Conquest, and became, after that event, the only lan-
guage used at the court of London. As the various con-
quests of the Normans, and the enthusiastic valor of
that extraordinary people, had familiarized the minds of
men with the most marv^ellous events, their poets eagerly
seized the fabulous legends of Arthur and Charlemagne,
translated them into the language of the day, and soon
produced a variety of imitations. The adventures at-
tributed to these monarchs, and to their distinguished
warriors, together with those of many other traditionary
or imaginary heroes, composed by degrees that formid-
able body of marvellous histories which, from the dia-
lect in which the most ancient of them were written,
were called "Romances."

METRICAL ROMANCES

The earliest form in which romances appear is that
of a rude kind of verse. In this form it is supposed
they were sung or recited at the feasts of princes and
knights in their baronial halls. The following specimen

INTRODUCTION ^77

of the language and style of Robert de Beauvais, who
flourished in 1257, is from Sir Walter Scott's "Intro-
duction to the Romance of Sir Tristrem" :

"Ne voil pas emmi dire,
Ici diverse la matyere,
Entre ceus qui solent cunter,
E de le cunte Tristran parler."

"I will not say too much about it.
So diverse is tlie matter,
Among those who are in the habit of telling
And relatmg the story of Tristran."

This is a specimen of the language which was in
use among the nobility of England, in the ages imme-
diately after the Norman conquest. The following is
a specimen of the English that existed at the same time,
among the common people. Robert de Brunne, speak-
ing of his Latin and French authorities, says :

"Als thai haf wryten and sayd
Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd,
In symple speche as I couthe,
That is lightest in manne's mouthe.
Alle for the luf of symple men.
That strange Inglis cannot ken."

The "strange Inglis" being the language of the pre-
vious specimen.

It was not till toward the end of the thirteenth cen-
tury that the prose romances began to appear. These
works generally began with disowning and discrediting
the sources from which in reality they drew their sole
information. As every romance was supposed to be a
real history, the compilers of those in prose would have
forfeited all credit if they had announced themselves as
mere copyists of the minstrels. On the contrary, they
usually state that, as the popular poems upon the mat-
ter in question contain many "lesings," they had been
induced to translate the real and true history of such
or such a knight from the original Latin or Greek, or
from the ancient British or Armorican authorities,
which authorities existed only in their own assertion.

378 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

A specimen of the style of the prose romances may
be found in the following extract from one of the most
celebrated and latest of them, the "Morte d'Arthur"
of Sir Thomas Mallory, of the date of 1485. From
this work much of the contents of this volume has been
drawn, with as close an adherence to the original style
as was thought consistent with our plan of adapting
our narrative to the taste of modern readers.

"It is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world
that there been ix worthy and the best that ever were.
That is to wete thre paynyms, three Jewes, and three
crysten men. As for the paynyms, they were tofore
the Incarnacyon of Cryst whiche were named, the fyrst
Hector of Troye; the second Alysaunder the grete, and
the thyrd Julyus Cezar, Emperour of Rome, of whome
thystoryes ben wel kno and had. And as for the
thre Jewes whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of
our Lord, of whome the fyrst was Due Josue, whyche
brought the chyldren of Israhel into the londe of be-
heste; the second Dauyd, kyng of Jherusalem, and the
thyrd Judas Macha1:>eus ; of these thre the byble re-
lierceth al theyr noble hystoryes and actes. And sythe
the sayd Incarnacyon haue ben the noble crysten men
stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal world to
the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was
fyrst the noble Arthur, Avhose noble actes I purpose to
wryte in this person book here folowyng. The second
was Charlemayn, or Charles the grete, of whome thy-
storye is had in many places both in frensshe and eng-
lysshe, and the thyrd and last was Godefray of boloyn."

CHAPTER II

THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND

The illustrious poet, Milton, in his "History of Eng-
land," is the author whom we chiefly follow in this
chapter.

MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND 379

According to the earliest accounts, Albion, a giant,
and son of Neptune, a contemporary of Hercules, ruled
over the island, to which he gave his name. Presuming
to oppose the progress of Hercules in his western march,
he was slain by him.

Another story is that Kistion, the son of Japhet, the
son of Noah, had four sons, Francus, Romanus, Aleman-
nus, and Britto, from whom descended the French, Ro-
man, German, and British people.

Rejecting these and other like stories, Milton gives
more regard to the story of Brutus, the Trojan, which,
he says, is supported by "descents of ancestry long con-
tinued, laws and exploits not plainly seeming to be bor-
rowed or devised, which on the common belief have
wrought no small impression; defended by many, de-
nied utterly by few." The principal authority is Geoffrey
of Monmouth, whose history, written in the twelfth
century, purports to be a translation of a history of
Britain brought over from the opposite shore of France,
which, under the name of Brittany, was chiefly peopled
by natives of Britain who, from time to time, emigrated
thither, driven from their own country Ijy the inroads
of the Picts and Scots. According to this authority,
Brutus was the son of Silvius, and he of Ascanius, the
son of .-Eneas, whose flight from Troy and settlement
in Italy are narrated in "Stories of Gods and Heroes."

Brutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to
the chase, unfortunately killed him with an arrow. Ban-
ished therefor by his kindred, he sought refuge in that
part of Greece where Helenus, with a band of Trojan
exiles, had become established. But Helenus was now
dead and the descendants of the Trojans were oppressed
by Pandrasus, the king of the country. Brutus, being
kindly received among them, so throve in virtue and
in arms as to win the regard of all the eminent of the
land above all others of his age. In consequence of this
the Trojans not only began to hope, Init secretly to
persuade him to lead them the way to lil^erty. To en-
courage them, they had the promise of help from As-
saracus, a noble Greek youth, whose mother was a
Trojan. He had suffered wrong at the hands of the

380 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

king, and for that reason the more willingly cast in his
lost with the Trojan exiles.

Choosing a fit opportunity, Brutus with his country-
men withdrew to the woods and hills, as the safest place
from which to expostulate, and sent this message to
Pandrasus : "That the Trojans, holding it unworthy of
their ancestors to serve in a foreign land, had retreated
to the woods, choosing rather a savage life than a slav-
ish one. If that displeased him, then, with his leave,
they would depart to some other country." Pandrasus,
not expecting so bold a message from the sons of
captives, went in pursuit of them, with such forces as
he could gather, and met them on the banks of the
Achelous, where Brutus got the advantage, and took
the king captive. The result was, that the terms de-
manded by the Trojans were granted ; the king gave
his daughter Imogen in marriage to Brutus, and fur-
nished shipping, money, and fit provision for them all
to depart from the land.

The marriage being solemnized, and shipping from all
parts got together, the Trojans, in a fleet of no less
than three hundred and twenty sail, betook themselves
to the sea. On the third day they arrived at a certain
island, which they found destitute of inhabitants, though
there were appearances of former habitation, and among
the ruins a temple of Diana. Brutus, here performing
sacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, invoked an oracle
for his guidance, in these lines :

"Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep;
On thy third realm, the earth, look now, and tell
What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek;
What certain seat where I may worship thee
For aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs."

To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana in a vision
thus answered :

"Brutus! far to the west, in the ocean wide,
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,
Seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old ;
Now, void, it fits thy people : thither bend

MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND 381

Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat;
There to thy sons another Troy liall rise,
And kings be bom of thee, whose dreaded might
Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold."

Brutus, guided now, as he thought, by divine direc-
tion, sped his course towards the west, and, arriving at
a place on the Tyrrhene sea, found there the descend-
ants of certain Trojans who, with Antenor, came into
Italy, of whom Corineus was the chief. These joined
company, and the ships pursued their way till they ar-
rived at the mouth of the river Loire, in France, where
the expedition landed, with a view to a settlement, but
were so rudely assaulted by the inhabitants that they
put to sea again, and arrived at a part of the coast of
Britain, now called Devonshire, where Brutus felt con-
vinced that he had found the promised end of his voy-
age, landed his colony, and took possession.

The island, not yet Britain, but Albion, was in a man-
ner desert and inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant
of the giant race whose excessive force and tyranny
had destroyed the others. The Trojans encountered
these and extirpated them, Corineus, in particular, sig-
nalizing himself by his exploits against them; from
whom Cornwall takes its name, for that region fell to
his lot, and there the hugest giants dwelt, lurking in
rocks and caves, till Corineus rid the land of them.

Brutus built his capital city, and called it Trojanova
(New Troy), changed in time to Trinovantus, now Lon-
don;^ and, having governed the isle twenty-four years,
died, leaving three sons, Locrine, Albanact and Camber.
Locrine had the middle part, Camber the west, called
Cambria from him, and Albanact Albania, now Scotland.
Locrine was married to Guendolen, the daughter of
Corineus, but having seen a fair maid named Estrildis,
who had been brought captive from Germany, he be-
came enamoured of her, and had by her a daughter,
whose name was Sabra. This matter was kept secret
while Corineus lived, but after his death Locrine di-

* "For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold,
And Troynovant was built of old Troy's ashes cold."

Spenser, Book III., Canto IX., 38.

382 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

vorced Guendolen, and made Estrildis his queen. Guen-
dolen, all in rage, departed to Cornwall, where Madan,
her son, lived, who had been brought up by Corineus,
his grandfather. Gathering an army of her father's
friends and subjects, she gave battle to her husband's
forces and Locrine was slain. Guendolen caused her
rival, Estrildis, with her daughter Sabra, to be thrown
into the river, from which cause the river thenceforth
bore the maiden's name, which by length of time is now
changed into Sabrina or Severn. Milton alludes to this
in his address to the rivers,

"Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death";

and in his "Comus" tells the story with a slight varia-
tion, thus :

"There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream;
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure:
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
That had the sceptre from his father, Brute,
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit
Of her enraged step-dame, Guendolen,
Commended her fair innocence to the flood.
That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.
The water-nymphs that in the bottom played,
Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall.
Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel,
And through the porch and inlet of each sense
Dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived,
And underwent a quick, immortal change,
Made goddess of the river," etc. /

If our readers ask when all this took place, we must
answer, in the first place, that mythology is not care-
ful of dates ; and next, that, as Brutus was the great-
grandson of ^neas, it must have been not far from a
century subsequent to the Trojan war, or about eleven
hundred years before the invasion of the island by Julius
Caesar. This long interval is filled with the names of
princes whose chief occupation was in warring with one

MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND 383

another. Some few, whose names remain connected
with places, or embalmed in literature, we will mention.

BLADUD

Bladud built the city of Bath, and dedicated the
medicinal waters to Minerva. He was a man of great
invention, and practised the arts of magic, till, having
made him wings to fly, he fell down upon the temple
of Apollo, in Trinovant, and so died, after twenty years'

reign.

LEIR

Leir, who next reigned, built Leicester, and called it
after his name. He had no male issue, but only three
daughters. When grown old he determined to divide
his kingdom among his daughters, and bestow them in
marriage. But first, to try which of them loved him
best, he determined to ask them solemnly in order, and
judge of the warmth of their affection by their answers.
Goneril, the eldest, knowing well her father's weakness,
made answer that she loved him "above her soul."
'Since thou so honorest my declining age," said the
old man, "to thee and to thy husband I give the third
part of my realm." Such good success for a few words
soon uttered was ample instruction to Regan, the second
daughter, what to say. She therefore to the same ques-
tion replied that "she loved him more than all the world
beside ;'' and so received an equal reward with her sis-
ter. But Cordeilla, the youngest, and hitherto the best
beloved, though having before her eyes the reward of a
little easy soothing, and the loss likely to attend plain-
dealing, yet was not moved from the solid purpose of
a sincere and virtuous answer, and replied : "Father, my
love towards you is as my duty bids. They who pre-
tend beyond this flatter." When the old man, sorry to
hear this, and wishing her to recall these words, per-
sisted in asking, she still restrained her expressions so as
to say rather less than more than the truth. Then Leir,
all in a passion, burst forth : "Since thou hast not rev-
erenced thy aged father like thy sisters, think not to

384 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

have any part in my kingdom or what else I have;"
and without delay, giving in marriage his other daugh-
ters, Goneril to the Duke of Albany, and Regan to the
Duke of Cornwall, he divides his kingdom between
them, and goes to reside with his eldest daughter, at-
tended only by a hundred knights. But in a short time
his attendants, being complained of as too numerous
and disorderly, are reduced to thirty. Resenting that
affront, the old king betakes him to his second daughter ;
but she, instead of soothing his wounded pride, takes
part with her sister, and refuses to admit a retinue of
more than five. Then back he returns to the other, who
now will not receive him with more than one attendant.
Then the remembrance of Cordeilla comes to his
thoughts, and he takes his journey into France to seek
her, with little hope of kind consideration from one
whom he had so injured, but to pay her the last recom-
pense he can render, confession of his injustice. When
Cordeilla is informed of his approach, and of his sad
condition, she pours forth true filial tears. And, not
willing that her own or others' eyes should see him in
that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trusted
servants to meet him, and convey him privately to some
comfortable abode, and to furnish him with such state
as befitted his dignity. After which Cordeilla, with the
king her husband, went in state to meet him, and, after
an honorable reception, the king permitted his wife,
Cordeilla, to go with an army and set her father again
upon his throne. They prospered, subdued the wicked
sisters and their consorts, and Leir obtained the crown
and held it three years. Cordeilla succeeded him and
reigned five years; but the sons af her sisters, after
that, rebelled against her, and she lost both her crown
and life.

Shakspeare has chosen this story as the subject of
his tragedy of "King Lear," varying its details in some
respects. The madness of Leir, and the ill success of
Cordeilla's attempt to reinstate her father, are the prin-
cipal variations, and those in the names will also be
noticed. Our narrative is drawn from Milton's "His-
tory;" and thus the reader will perceive that the story

MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND 385

of Leir has had the distinguished honor of being told
by the two acknowledged chiefs of British literature.

FERREX AND PORREX

Ferrex and Porrex were brothers, who held the king-
dom after Leir. They quarrelled about the supremacy,
and Porrex expelled his brother, who, obtaining aid
from Suard, king of the Franks, returned and made
war upon Porrex. Ferrex was slain in battle and his
forces dispersed. When their mother came to hear of
her son's death, who was her favorite, she fell into a
great rage, and conceived a mortal hatred against the
survivor. She took, therefore, her opportunity when he
was asleep, fell upon him, and, with the assistance of
her women, tore him in pieces. This horrid story would
not be worth relating, were it not for the fact that it
has furnished the plot for the first tragedy which was
written in the English language. It was entitled "Gor-
boduc," but in the second edition "Ferrex and Porrex,"
and was the production of Thomas Sackville, afterwards
Earl of Dorset, and Thomas Norton, a barrister. Its
date was 1561.

DUNWALLO MOLMUTIUS

This is the next name of note. Molmutius established
the Molmutine laws, which bestowed the privilege of
sanctuary on temples, cities, and the roads leading to
them, and gave the same protection to ploughs, extend-
ing a religious sanction to the labors of the field.
Shakspeare alludes to him in "Cymbeline," Act III.,
Scene 1 :

". . . Molmutius made our laws ;
Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown, and called
Himself a king."

BRENNUS AND BELINUS,

the sons of Molmutius, succeeded him. They quar-
relled, and Brennus was driven out of the island, and
took refuge in Gaul, where he met with such favor

386 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

from the king of the Allobroges that he gave him his
daughter in marriage, and made him his partner on the
throne. Brennus is the name which the Roman histo-
rians give to the famous leader of the Gauls who took
Rome in the time of Camillus. Geoffrey of Monmouth
claims the glory of the conquest for the British prince,
after he had become king of the Allobroges.

ELIDURE

After Belinus and Brennus there reigned several kings
of little note, and then came Elidure. Arthgallo, his
brother, being king, gave great offence to his powerful
nobles, who rose against him, deposed him, and advanced
Elidure to the throne. Arthgallo fled, and endeavored
to find assistance in the neighboring kingdoms to rein-
state him, but found none. Elidure reigned prosper-
ously and wisely. After five years' possession of the
kingdom, one day, when hunting, he met in the forest
his brother, Arthgallo, Avho had been deposed. After
long wandering, unable longer to bear the poverty to
which he was reduced, he had returned to Britain, with
only ten followers, designing to repair to those who had
formerly been his friends. Elidure, at the sight of his
brother in distress, forgetting all animosities, ran to
him, and embraced him. He took Arthgallo home with
him, and concealed him in the palace. After this he
feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him,
induced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to
consent to his abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating
his brother on the throne. The agreement being ratified,
Elidure took the crowii from his oym head, and put it
on his brother's head. Arthgallo after this reigned ten
years, well and wisely, exercisng strict justice towards
all men.

* He died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned
with various fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left
no offspring, so that Elidure was again advanced to the
throne, and finished the course of his life in just and
virtuous actions, receiving the name of the pious, from
the love and admiration of his subjects.

MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND 387

Wordsworth has taken the story of Artegal and EH-
dure for the subject of a poem, which is No. 2 of
"Poems foimded on the Affections."

LUD

After Elidure, the Chronicle names many kings, but
none of special note, till we come to Lud, who greatly
enlarged Trinovant, his capital, and surrounded it with
a wall. He changed its name, bestowing upon it his
own, so that henceforth it was called Lud's town, after-
wards London. Lud was buried by the gate of the city
called after him Ludgate. He had two sons, but they
were not old enough at the time of their father's death
to sustain the cares of government, and therefore their
uncle, Caswallaun, or Cassibellaunus, succeeded to the
kingdom. He was a brave and magnificent prince, so
that his fame reached to distant countries.

CASSIBELLAUNUS

About this time it happened (as is found in the
Roman histories) that Julius Caesar, having subdued
Gaul, came to the shore opposite Britain. And having
resolved to add this island also to his conquests, he pre-
pared ships and transported his army across the sea, to
the mouth of the River Thames. Here he was met by
Cassibellaun with all his forces, and a battle ensued, in
which Nennius. the brother of Cassibellaun, engaged in
single combat with Caesar. After several furious blows
given and received, the sword of Caesar stuck so fast in
the shield of Nennius that it could not be pulled out, and
the combatants being separated by the intervention of
the troops Nennius remained possessed of this trophy.
At last, after the greater part of the day was spent, the
Britons poured in so fast that Caesar was forced to retire
to his camp and fleet. And finding it useless to continue
the war any longer at that time, he returned to Gaul.

Shakspeare alludes to Cassibellaunus, in "Cymbe-
line" :

388 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

"The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O giglot fortune!) to master Caesar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage."

KYMBELINUS, OR CYMBELINE

Caesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more
fortunate, and compelled the Britons to pay tribute.
Cymbeline, the nephew of the king, was delivered to
the Romans as a hostage for the faithful fulfilment of
the treaty, and, being carried to Rome by Csesar, he was
there brought up in the Roman arts and accomplish-
ments. Being afterwards restored to his country, and
placed on the throne, he was attached to the Romans,
and continued through all his reign at peace with them.
His sons, Guiderius and Arviragus, who made their ap-
pearance in Shakspeare's play of "Cymbeline," suc-
ceeded their father, and, refusing to pay tribute to the
Romans, brought on another invasion. Guiderius was
slain, but Arviragus afterward made terms with the
Romans, and reigned prosperously many years.

ARMORICA

The next event of note is the conquest and coloniza-
tion of Armorica, by Maximus, a Roman general, and
Conan, lord of Miniadoc or Denbigh-land, in Wales.
The name of the country was changed to Brittany, or
Lesser Britain ; and so completely was it possessed by
the British colonists, that the language became assimi-
lated to that spoken in Wales, and it is said that to this
day the peasantry of the two countries can understand
each other when speaking their native language.

The Romans eventually succeeded in establishing
themselves in the island, and after the lapse of several
generations they became blended with the natives so that
no distinction existed between the two races. When at
length the Roman armies were withdrawn from Britain,
their departure was a matter of regret to the inhabitants,
as it left them without protection against the barbarous
tribes, Scots, Picts, and Norwegians, who harassed the

MERLIN 389

country incessantly. This was the state of things when
the era of King Arthur began.

The adventure of Albion, the giant, with Hercules is
alluded to by Spenser, "Faery Queene," Book IV.,
Canto xi :

"For Albion the son of Neptune was;
Who for the proof of his great puissance,
Out of his Albion did on dry foot pass
Into old Gaul that now is cleped France,
To fight with Hercules, that did advance
To vanquish all the world with matchless might :
And there his mortal part by great mischance
Was slain."

CHAPTER III

MERLIN

Merlin was the son of no mortal father, but of an
Incubus, one of a class of beings not absolutely wicked,
but far from good, who inhabit the regions of the air.
Merlin's mother was a virtuous young woman, who, on
the birth of her son, intrusted him to a priest, who
hurried him to the baptismal fount, and so saved him
from sharing the lot of his father, though he retained
many marks of his unearthly origin.

At this time Vortigern reigned in Britain. He was a
usurper, who had caused the death of his sovereign,
Moines, and driven the two brothers of the late king,
whose names were Uther and Pendragon, into banish-
ment. Vortigern, who lived in constant fear of the re-
turn of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, began to erect
a strong tower for defence. The edifice, when brought
by the workmen to a certain height, three times fell to
the ground, without any apparent cause. The king con-
sulted his astrologers on this wonderful event, and
learned from them that it would be necessary to
bathe the corner-stone of the foundation with the blood
of a child born without a mortal father.

In search of such an infant, Vortigern sent his mes-

390 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

sengers all over the kingdom, and they by accident dis-
covered Merlm, whose lineage seemed to point him out
as the individual wanted. They took him to the king;
but Merlin, young as he was, explained to the king the
absurdity of attempting to rescue the fabric by such
means, for he told him the true cause of the instability
of the tower was its being placed over the den of two
immense dragons, whose combats shook the earth above
them. The king ordered his workmen to dig beneath the
tower, and when they had done so they discovered two
enormous serpents, the one white as milk the other red
as fire. The multitude looked on with amazement, till
the serpents, slowly rising from their den, and expand-
ing their enormous folds, began the combat, when every
one fled in terror, except Merlin, who stood by clapping
his hands and cheering on the conflict. The red dragon
was slain, and the white one, gliding through a cleft in
the rock, disappeared.

These animals typified, as Merlin afterwards ex-
plained, the invasion of Uther and Pendragon, the
rightful princes, who soon after landed with a great
army. Vortigern was defeated, and afterwards burned
alive in the castle he had taken such pains to construct.
On the death of Vortigern, Pendragon ascended the
throne. Merlin became his chief adviser, and often
assisted tlie king by his magical arts.

"Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts,
Had built the King his havens, ships and halls."

Vivian.

Among other endowments, he had the power of trans-
forming himself into any shape he pleased. At one time
he appeared as a dwarf, at others as a damsel, a page,
or even a greyhound or a stag. This faculty he often
employed for the service of the king, and sometimes
also for the diversion of the court and the sovereigrn.

Merlin contmued to be a favorite counsellor through
the reigns of Pendragon, Uther, and Arthur, and at last
disappeared from view, and was no more found among
men, through the treachery of his mistress, Viviane, the
Fairy, which happened in this wise.

MERLIN 391

Merlin, having become enamoured of the fair Viviane,
the Lady of the Lake, was weak enough to impart to
her various important secrets of his art, being impelled
by fatal destiny, of which he was at the same time fully
aware. The lady, however, was not content with his
devotion, unbounded as it seems to have been, but "cast
about," the Romance tells us, how she might "detain him
for evermore," and one day addressed him in these
terms : "Sir, I would that we should make a fair place
and a suitable, so contrived by art and by cunning that
it might never be undone, and that you and I should be
there in joy and solace." "My lady," said Merlin, "I
will do all this." "Sir," said she, "I w^ould not have you
do it, but you shall teach me, and I will do it, and then
it will be more to my mind." "I grant you this," said
Merlin. Then he began to devise, and the damsel put it
all in writing. And when he had devised the whole,
then had the damsel full great joy, and showed him
greater semblance of love than she had ever before made,
and they sojourned together a long while. At length it
fell out that, as they were going one day hand in hand
through the forest of Breceliande, they found a bush of
white-thorn, which was laden with flowers ; and they
seated themselves under the shade of this white-thorn,
upon the green grass, and Merlin laid his head upon the
damsel's lap, and fell asleep. Then the damsel rose, and
made a ring with her wimple round the bush, and round
Merlin, and began her enchantments, such as he himself
had taught her ; and nine times she made the ring, and
nine times she made the enchantment, and then she went
and sat down by him, and placed his head again upon
her lap.

"And a sleep
Fell upon Merlin more like death, so deep
Her finger on her lips ; then Vivian rose,
And from her brown-locked head the wimple throws,
And takes it in her hand and waves it over
The blossomed thorn tree and her sleeping- lover.
Nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round,
And made a little plot of magic ground."

Matthew Arnold.

392 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

And when he awoke, and looked round him, it seemed
to him that he was enclosed in the strongest tower in
the world, and laid upon a fair bed. Then said he to
the dame : "My lady, you have deceived me, unless you
abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake this
tower but you alone." She then promised she would be
often there, and in this she held her covenant with him.
And Merlin never went out of that tower where his Mis-
tress Viviane had enclosed him; but she entered and
went out again when she listed.

After this event Merlin was never more known to hold
converse with any mortal but Viviane, except on one
occasion. Arthur, having for some time missed him
from his court, sent several of his knights in search of
him, and, among the number, Sir Gawain, who met with
a very unpleasant adventure while engaged in this quest.
Happening to pass a damsel on his road, and neglecting
to salute her, she revenged herself for his incivility by
transforming him into a hideous dwarf. He was be-
wailing aloud his evil fortune as he went through the
forest of Breceliande, when suddenly he heard the voice
of one groaning on his right hand ; and, looking that
way, he could see nothing save a kind of smoke, which
seemed like air, and through which he could not pass.
Merlin then addressed him from out the smoke, and told
him by what misadventure he was imprisoned there.
"Ah, sir !" he added, "you will never see me more, and
that grieves me, but I cannot remedy it; I shall never
more speak to you, nor to any other person, save only
my mistress. But do thou hasten to King Arthur, and
charge him from me to undertake/ without delay, the
quest of the Sacred Graal. The knight is already born,
and has received knighthood at his hands, who is des-
tined to accomplish this quest." And after this he com-
forted Gawain under his transformation, assuring him
that he should speedily be disenchanted ; and he pre-
dicted to him that he should find the king at Carduel, in
Wales, on his return, and that all the other knights who
had been on like quest would arrive there the same day
as himself. And all this came to pass as Merlin had
said.

MERLIN 393

Merlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chiv-
alry, but it is chiefly on great occasions, and at a period
subsequent to his death, or magical disappearance. In
the- romantic poems of Italy, and in Spenser, Merlin
is chiefly represented as a magical artist. Spenser rep-
resents him as the artificer of the impenetrable shield
and other armor of Prince Arthur ("Faery Queene,"'
Book I., Canto vii.), and of a mirror, in which a damsel
viewed her lover's shade. The Fountain of Love, in
the "Orlando Innamorata," is described as his work;
and in the poem of "Ariosto" we are told of a hall
adorneci with prophetic paintings, which demons had ex-
ecuted in a single night, under the direction of Merlin.

The following legend is from Spenser's "Faery
Queene," Book III., Canto iii. :

CAER-MERDIN, OR CAERMARTHEN (iN WALES), MERLIN's TOWER, AND
THE IMPRISONED FIENDS.

"Forthwith themselves disguising both, in straunge
And base attire, that none might them bewray,
To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge
Of name Caer-Merdin called, they took their way:
There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say)
To make his wonne, low underneath the ground
In a deep delve, far from the view of day,
That of no living wight he mote be found,
Whenso he counselled with his sprights encompassed round.

"And if thou ever happen that same way
To travel, go to see that dreadful place;
It is a hideous hollow cave (they say)
Under a rock that lies a little space
From the swift Barry, tombling down' apace
Amongst the woody hills of Dynevor;
But dare not thou, I charge, in any case,
To enter into' that same baleful bower,
For fear the cruel fiends should thee un wares devour.

"But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear,
And there such ghastly noise of iron chains
And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumliling hear.
Which thousand sprites with long enduring pains
Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains;
And oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds,
When too huge toil and lalwr them constrains;
And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds
From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds.

394 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

"The cause some say is this. A little while
Before that Merlin died, he did intend
A brazen wall in compas to compile
About Caermerdin, and did it commend
Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end;
During which work the Lady of the Lake,
Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send;
Who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake.
Them bound till his return their labor not to slack.

"In the mean time, through that false lady's train,
He was surprised, and buried under beare,^
Ne ever to his work returned again ;
Nathless those fiends may not their work forbear
So greatly his commandement they fear;
But there do toil and travail day and night,
Until that brazen wall they up do rear.
For Merlin had in magic more insight
Than ever him before or after living wight."

CHAPTER IV

ARTHUR

We shall begin our history of King Arthur by giving
those particulars of his life which appear to rest on his-
torical evidence; and then proceed to record those leg-
ends concerning him which form the earliest portion of
British literature.

Arthur was a prince of the tribe of Britons called
Silures, whose country was South Wales, the son of
Uther, named Pendragon, a title given to an elective sov-
ereign, paramount over the many kings of Britain. He ap-
pears to have commenced his manial career about the
year 500, and was raised to the Pendragonship about ten
years later. He is said to have gained twelve victories
over the Saxons. The most important of them was that
of Badon, by some supposed to be Bath, by others Berk-
shire. This was the last of his battles with the Saxons,
and checked their progress so effectually, that Arthur
experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned

^ Buried under beare. Buried under something which enclosed him like
a coffin or bier.

ARTHUR 395

in peace, until the revolt of his nephew Modred, twenty-
years later, which led to the fatal battle of Camlan, in
Cornwall, in 542. Modred was slain, and Arthur, mor-
tally wounded, was conveyed by sea to Glastonbury,
where he died, and was buried. Tradition preserved
the memory of the place of his interment within the
abbey, as we are told by Giraldus Canibrensis, who
was present when the grave was opened by command of
Henry H. about 1150, and saw the bones and sword of
the monarch, and a leaden cross let into his tombstone,
with the inscription in rude Roman letters, "Here lies
buried the famous King Arthur, in the island Avalonia."
This story has been elegantly versified by Warton. A
popular traditional belief was long entertained among
the Britons, that Arthur was not dead, but had been
carried off to be healed of his wounds in Fairy-land, and
that he would reappear to avenge his countrymen and
reinstate them in the sovereignty of Britain. In War-
ton's "Ode" a bard relates to King Henry the tradi-
tional story of Arthur's death, and closes with these
lines.

"Yet in vain a paynim foe
Armed with fate the mighty blow :
For when he fell, the Elfin queen,
All in secret and unseen,
O'er the fainting hero threw
Her mantle of ambrosial blue,
And bade her spirits bear him far,
In Merlin's agate-axled car,
To her green isle's enamelled steep,
Far in the navel of the deep.
O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew
From flowers that in Arabia grew.

There he reigns a mighty king,
Thence to Britain shall return.
If right prophetic rolls I learn,
Borne on victory's spreading plume.
His ancient sceptre to resume,
His knightly table to restore,
And brave the tournaments of yore."

After this narration another bard came forward who
recited a different .'^tory :

396 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

"When Arthur bowed his haughty crest,
No princess veiled in azure vest
Snatched him, by Merhn's powerful spell.
In groves of golden bliss to dwell;
But when he fell, with winged speed,
His champions, on a milk-white steed.
From the battle's hurricane,
Bore him to Joseph's towered fane,^
In the fair vale of Avalon;
There, with chanted orison
And the long blaze of tapers clear.
The stoled fathers met the bier;
Through the dim aisles, in order dread
Of martial woe, the chief they led,
And deep entombed in holy ground.
Before the altar's solemn bound."

It must not be concealed that the very existence of
Arthur has been denied by some. Milton says of him:
"As to Arthur, more renowned in songs and romances
than in true stories, who he was, and whether ever any
such reigned in Britain, hath been doubted heretofore,
and may again, with good reason." Modern critics, how-
ever, admit that there was a prince of this name, and
find proof of it in the frequent mention of him in the
writings of the Welsh bards. But the Arthur of ro-
mance, according to Mr. Owen, a Welsh scholar and an-
tiquarian, is a mythological person. "Arthur," he says,
"is the Great Bear, as the name literally implies (Arctos.
Arcturus), and perhaps this constellation, being so near
the pole, and visibly describing a circle in a small space,
is the origin of the famous Round Table."

KING ARTHUR ,

Constans, king of Britain, had three sons, Moines,
Ambrosius, otherwise called Uther, and Pendragon.
Moines, soon after his accession to the crown, was van-
quished by the Saxons, in consequence of the treachery

^ Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph of Arimathea, in a
spot anciently called the island or valley of Avalonia.

Tennyson, in his "Palace of Art," alludes to the legend of Arthur's
rescue by the Faery queen, thus:

"Or mythic Uther's deeply wounded son,
In some fair space of sloping greens,
Lay dozing in the vale of Avalon,
And watched by weeping queens."

ARTHUR 397

of his seneschal, Vortigern, and growing unpopular,
through misfortune, he was killed by his subjects, and
the traitor Vortigern chosen in his place.

Vortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by
Uther and Pendragon, the surviving brothers of Moines,
and Pendragon ascended the throne.

This prince had great confidence in the wisdom of
Merlin, and made him his chief adviser. About this
time a dreadful war arose between the Saxons and
Britons. Merlin obliged the royal brothers to swear
fidelity to each other, but predicted that one of them
must fall in the first battle. The Saxons were routed,
and Pendragon, being slain, was succeeded by Uther,
vho now assumed in addition to his own name the appel-
lation of Pendragon.

Merlin still continued a favorite counsellor. At the
request of Uther he transported by magic art enormous
stones from Ireland, to form the sepulchre of Pendragon.
These stones constitute the monument now called Stone-
henge, on Salisbury plain.

Merlin next proceeded to Carlisle to prepare the
Round Table, at which he seated an assemblage of the
great nobles of the country. The companions admitted
to this high order were bound by oath to assist each
other at the hazard of their own lives, to attempt singly
the most perilous adventures, to lead, when necessary,
a life of monastic solitude, to fly to arms at the first
summons, and never to retire from battle till they had
defeated the enemy, unless night intervened and sepa-
rated the combatants.

Soon after this institution, the king invited all his
barons to the celebration of a great festival, which he
proposed holding annually at Carlisle.

As the knights had obtained the sovereign's permis-
sion to bring their ladies along with them, the beautiful
Igerne accompanied her husband, Gorlois. Duke of Tin-
tadel, to one of these anniversaries. The king became
deeply enamoured of the duchess, and disclosed his pas-
sion; but Igerne repelled his advances, and revealed his
solicitations to her husband. On hearing this, the duke
instantly removed from court with Igerne, and without

398 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

taking leave of Uther. The king complained to his
council of this want of duty, and they decided that the
duke should be summoned to court, and, if refractory,
should be treated as a rebel. As he refused to obey the
citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vas-
sal and besieged him in the strong castle of Tintadel.
Merlin transformed the king into the likeness of Gorlois,
and enabled him to have many stolen interviews with
Igerne. At length the duke was killed in battle and the
king espoused Igerne.

From this union sprang Arthur, who succeeded his
father, Uther, upon the throne.

ARTHUR CHOSEN KING

Arthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's
death, was elected king, at a general meeting of the
nobles. It was not done without opposition, for there
were many ambitious competitors.

"For while he linger'd there
A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts
Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm
Flash'd forth and into war: for most of these
Made head against him, crying, 'Who is he
That he should rule us? who hath proven him
King Uther's son? for lo ! we look at him.
And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice.
Are like to those of Uther whom we knew."

Coming of Arthur.

But Bishop Brice, a" person of great sanctity, on Christ-
mas eve addressed the assembly, and represented that
it would well become them, at that solemn season, to put
up their prayers for some token which should manifest
the intentions of Providence respecting their future sov-
ereign. This was done, and with such success, that the
service was scarcely ended when a miraculous stone was
discovered before the church door, and in the stone was
firmly fixed a sword, with the following words engraven
on its hilt :

"I am hight Escalibore,
Unto a king fair tresore."

ARTHUR 399

Bishop Brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up
their thanksgiving for this signal miracle, proposed a
law, that whoever should be able to draw out the sword
from the stone, should be acknowledged as sovereign of
the Britons; and his proposal was decreed by general
acclamation. The tributary kings of Uther, and the
most famous knights, successively put their strength to
the proof, but the miraculous sword resisted all their
efforts. It stood till Candlemas ; it stood till Easter, and
till Pentecost, when the best knights in the kingdom usu-
ally assembled for the annual tournament. Arthur, who
was at that time serving in the capacity of squire to his
foster-brother, Sir Kay, attended his master to the lists.
Sir Kay fought with great valor and success, but had the
misfortune to break his sword, and sent Arthur to his
mother for a new one. Arthur hastened home, but did
not find the lady ; but having observed near the church a
sword, sticking in a stone, he galloped to the place, drew
out the sword with great ease, and delivered it to his
master. Sir Kay would willingly have assumed to him-
self the distinction conferred by the possession of the
sv/ord, but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword was
replaced in the stone he was utterly unable to withdraw
it, and it would yield a second time to no hand but
Arthur's. Thus decisively pointed out by Heaven as their
king, Arthur was by general consent proclaimed as such,
and an early day appointed for his solemn coronation.

Immediately after his election to the crown, Arthur
found himself opposed by eleven kings and one duke,
who with a vast army were actually encamped in the
forest of Rockingham. By Merlin's advice Arthur sent
an embassy to Brittany, to solicit the aid of King Ban
and King Bohort, two of the best knights in the world.
They accepted the call, and with a powerful army
crossed the sea, landing at Portsmouth, where they were
received with great rejoicing. The rebel kings were still
superior in numbers; but Merlin, by a powerful enchant-
ment, caused all their tents to fall down at once, and in
the confusion Arthur with his allies fell upon them and
totally routed them.

After defeating the rebels, Arthur took the field

400 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

against the Saxons. As they were too strong for him
unaided, he sent an embassy to Armorica, beseeching
the assistance of Hoel, who soon after brought over an
army to his aid. The two kings joined their forces, and
sought the enemy, whom they met, and both sides pre-
pared for a decisive engagement. "Arthur himself," as
Geoffrey of Monmouth relates, "dressed in a breastplate
worthy of so great a king, places on his head a golden
helmet engraved with the semblance of a dragon. Over
his shoulders he throws his shield called Priwen, on
which a picture of the Holy Virgin constantly recalled
her to his memory. Girt with Caliburn, a most excel-
lent sword, and fabricated in the isle of Avalon, he
graces his right hand with the lance named Ron. This
was a long and broad spear, well contrived for
slaughter." After a severe conflict, Arthur, calling on
the name of the Virgin, rushes into the midst of his ene-
mies, and destroys multitudes of them with the formid-
able Caliburn, and puts the rest to flight. Hoel, being
detained by sickness, took no part in this battle.

This is called the victory of Mount Badon, and, how-
ever disguised by fable, it is regarded by historians as a
real event.

The feats performed by Arthur at the battle of BadoK
Mount are thus celebrated in Drayton's verse :

"They sung how he himself at Badon bore, that day,
When at the glorious goal his British sceptre lay;
Two daies together how the battel stronglie stood;
Pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood,
Three hundred Saxons slew with his owne valiant hand."

Song IV.

GUENEVER /

Merlin had planned for Arthur a marriage with the
daughter of King Laodegan of Carmalide. By his
advice Arthur paid a visit to the court of that sovereign,
attended only by Merlin and by thirty-nine knights
whom the magician had selected for that service. On
their arrival they found Laodegan and his peers sitting
in council, endeavoring, but with small prospect of suc-
cess, to devise means of resisting the impending attack

ARTHUR 401

of Ryence, king of Ireland, who, with fifteen tributary-
kings and an almost innumerable army, had nearly sur-
rounded the city. Merlin, who acted as leader of the
band of British knjghts, announced them as strangers,
who came to offer the king their services in his wars;
but under the express condition that they should be at
liberty to conceal their names and quality until they
should think proper to divulge them. These terms were
thought very strange, but were thankfully accepted, and
the strangers, after taking the usual oath to the king,
retired to the lodging which Merlin had prepared for
them.

A few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a
truce into which they had entered with King Laodegan,
suddenly issued from their camp and made an attempt
to surprise the city. Cleodalis, the king's general, as-
sembled the royal forces with all possible despatch.
Arthur and his companions also flew to arms, and
Merlin appeared at tneir head, bearing a standard on
which was emblazoned a terrific dragon. Merlin ad-
vanced to the gate, and commanded the porter to open
it, which the porter refused to do, without the king's
order. Merlin thereupon took up the gate, with all its
appurtenances of locks, bars, bolts, etc., and directed his
troops to pass through, after which he replaced it in per-
fect order. He then set spurs to his horse and dashed, at
the head of his little troop, into a body of two thousand
pagans. The disparity of numbers being so enormous.
Merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, so as to prevent
their seeing the small number of their assailants ; not-
withstanding which the British knights were hard
pressed. But the people of the city, who saw from the
walls this unequal contest, were ashamed of leaving the
small body of strangers to their fate, so they opened the
gate and sallied forth. The numbers were now more
nearly equal, and Merlin revoked his spell, so that the
two armies encountered on fair terms. Where Arthur,
Ban, Bohort, and the rest fought the king's army had
the advantage ; but in another part of the iield the king
himself was surrounded and carried off by the enemy.
The sad sight was seen by Guenever, the fair daughter

402 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

of the king, who stood on the city wall and looked at
the battle. She was in dreadful distress, tore her hair,
and swooned away.

But Merlin, aware of what passed in every part of
the field, suddenly collected his knights, led them out of
the battle, intercepted the passage of the party who were
carrying away the king, charged them with irresistible
impetuosity, cut in pieces or dispersed the whole escort,
and rescue'd the king. In the fight Arthur encountered
Caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, and the fair Guen-
eyer, who had already began to feel a strong interest in
the handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue of
the contest. But Arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the
shoulder of the monster, cut through his neck so that
his head hung over on one side, and in this condition
his horse carried him about the field, to the great horror
and dismay of the Pagans. Guenever could not refrain
from expressing aloud her wish that the gentle knight,
who dealt with giants so dexterously, were destined to
become her husband, and the wish was echoed by her
attendants. The enemy soon turned their backs and fled
with precipitation, closely pursued by Laodegan and his
allies.

After the battle Arthur was disarmed and conducted
to the bath by the princess Guenever, while his friends
were attended by the other ladies of the court. After
the bath the knights were conducted to a magnificent
entertainment, at which they were diligently served by
the same fair attendants. Laodegan, more and more
anxious to know the name and quality of his generous
deliverers, and occasionally forming a/ secret wish that
the chief of his guests might be Captivated by the
charms of his daughter, appeared silent and pensive, and
was scarcely roused from his reverie by the banters of
his courtiers. Arthur, having had an opportunity of
explaining to Guenever his great esteem for her merit,
was in the joy of his heart, and was still further de-
lighted by hearing from Merlin the late exploits of
Gawain at London, by means of which his immediate
return to his dominions was rendered unnecessary, and
he was left at liberty to protract his stay at the court

ARTHUR 403

of Laodegan. Every day contributed to increase the
admiration of the whole court for the gallant strangers,
and the passion of Guenever for their chief ; and when
at last Merlin announced to the king that the object of
the visit of the party was to procure a bride for their
leader, Laodegan at. once presented Guenever to Arthur,
telling him that, whatever might be his rank, his merit
was sufficient to entitle him to the possession of the
heiress of Carmalide.

"And could he find a woman in her womanhood
As great as he was in his manhood
The twain together might change the world."

Guinevere.

Arthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and
Merlin then proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of
his son-in-law ; upon which Laodegan, with all his
barons, hastened to do homage to their lawful sovereign,
the successor of Uther Pendragon. The fair Guenever
was then solemnly betrothed to Arthur, and a magnifi-
cent festival was proclaimed, which lasted seven days.
At the end of that time, the enemy appearing again with
renewed force, it became necessary to resume military
operations/

We must now relate what took place at and near
London, while Arthur was absent from his capital. At
this very time a band of young heroes were on their
way to Arthur's court, for the purpose of receiving
knighthood from him. They were Gawain and his three
brothers, nephews of Arthur, sons of King Lot, and
Galachin, another nephew, son of King Nanters. King
Lot had been one of the rebel chiefs whom Arthur had
defeated, but he now hoped by means of the young men
to be reconciled to his brother-in-law. He equipped his
sons and his nephew with the utmost magnificence, giv-
ing them a splendid retinue of young men, sons of earls
and barons, all mounted on the l^est horses, with com-
plete suits of choice annor. They numbered in all seven

^ Guenever, the name of Arthur's queen, also written Genievre and
Geneura, is familiar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. It is
to her adventures, and those of htr true knight, Sir Launcelot, that Dante
alludes in the beautiful episode of Francesca da Rimini.

404 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

hundred, but only nine had yet received the order of
knighthood; the rest were candidates for that honor,
and anxious to earn it by an early encounter with the
enemy. Gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonder-
ful strength; but what was most remarkable about him
was that his strength was greater at certain hours of
the day than at others. From nine o'clock till noon his
strength was doubled, and so it was from three to even-
song; for the rest of the time it was less remarkable,
though at all times surpassing that of ordinary men.

After a march of three days they arrived in the vi-
cinity of London, where they expected to find Arthur
and his court, and very unexpectedly fell in with a large
convoy belonging to the enemy, consisting of numerous
carts and wagons, all loaded with provisions, and
escorted by three thousand men, who had been collect-
ing spoil from all the country round. A single charge
from Gawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to dis-
perse the escort and recover the convoy, which was in-
stantly despatched to London. But before long a body
of seven thousand fresh soldiers advanced to the at-
tack of the five princes and their little army. Gawain,
singling out a chief named Choas, of gigantic size, began
the battle by splitting him from the crown of the head
to the breast. Galachin encountered King Sanagran,
who was also very huge, and cut off his head. Agrivain
and Gahariet also performed prodigies of valor. Thus
they kept the great army of assailants at bay, though
hard pressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong body
of the citizens advancing from London, where the con-
voy which had been recovered by Gawain had arrived,
and informed the mayor and citizens of the danger of
their deliverer. The arrival of the Londoners soon de-
cided the contest. The enemy fled in all directions, and
Gawain and his friends, escorted by the grateful citi-
zens, entered London, and were received with acclama-
tions.

ARTHUR 405

CHAPTER V
ARTHUR (Continued)

After the great victory of Mount Badon, by which
the Saxons were for the time effectually put down,
Arthur turned his arms against the Scots and Picts,
whom he routed at Lake Lomond, and compelled to sue
for mercy. He then went to York to keep his Christ-
mas, and employed himself in restoring the Christian
churches which the Pagans had rifled and overthrown.
The following summer he conquered Ireland, and then
made a voyage with his fleet to Iceland, which he also
subdued. The kings of Gothland and of the Orkneys
came voluntarily and made their submission, promising
to pay tribute. Then he returned to Britain, where, hav-
ing established the kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in
peace.

During this time he invited over to him all persons
whatsoever that were famous for valor in foreign na-
tions, and augmented the number of his domestics, and
introduced such politeness into his court as people of
the remotest countries thought worthy of their imitation.
So that there was not a nobleman who thought hiraself
of any consideration unless his clothes and arms were
made in the same fashion as those of Arthur's knights.

Finding himself so powerful at home, Arthur began
to form designs for extending his power abroad. So,
having prepared his fleet, he first attempted Norway,
that he might procure the crown of it for Lot, his
sister's husband. Arthur landed in Norway, fought a
great battle with the king of that country, defeated
him, and pursued the victory till he had reduced the
whole country under his dominion, and established Lot
upon the throne. Then Arthur made a voyage to Gaul
and laid siege to the city of Paris. Gaul was at that
time a Roman province, and governed by Flollo, the
Tribune. When the siege of Paris had continued a
month, and the peoyle bc^an to suffer from famine.

406 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

Flollo challenged Arthur to single combat, proposing to
decide the conquest of the province in that way. Arthur
gladly accepted the challenge, and slew his adversary
in the contest, upon which the citizens surrendered the
city to him. After the victory Arthur divided his army
into two parts, one of which he committed to the con-
duct of Hoel, whom he ordered to march into Aquitaine,
while he with the other part should endeavor to subdue
the other provinces. At the end of nine years, in which
time all the parts of Gaul were entirely reduced, Arthur
returned to Paris, where he kept his court, and, call-
ing an assembly of the clergy and people, established
peace and the just administration of the laws in that
kingdom. Then he bestowed Normandy upon Bedver,
his butler, and the province of Andegavia upon Kay,
his st?ward,^ and several other provinces upon his great
men that attended him. And, having settled the peace
of the cities and countries, he returned back in the be-
ginning of spring to Britain.

Upon the approach of the feast of Pentecost, Arthur,
the better to demonstrate his joy after such triumphant
successes, and for the more solemn observation of that
festival, and reconciling the minds of the princes that
were now subject to him, resolved during that season
to hold a magnificent court, to place the crown upon
his head, and to invite all the kings and dukes under his
subjection to the solemnity. And he pitched upon
Caerleon, the City of Legions, as the proper place for
his purpose. For, besides its great wealth above the
other cities,^ its situation upon the river Usk, near the
Severn sea, was most pleasant and fit for so great a
solemnity. For on one side it was washed by that noble

* This name, in the French romances, is spelled Queux, which means
head cook. This would seem to imply that it was a title, and not a name;
yet the personage who bore it is never mentioned by any other. He is
the chief, if not the only, comic character among the heroes of Arthur's
court. He is the Seneschal or Steward, his duties also embracing those
of chief of the cooits. In the romances, his general character is a com-
pound of valor and buffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting
the worst of the battle. He is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks,
by wliich he often gets into trouble. Yet Arthur seems to have an attach-
ment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally wrong.

* Several cities are allotted to King Arthur by the romance-writers. The
principal are Caerleon, Camelot, and Carlisle.

Caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one of
the legions, during the dominion of the Romans. It is called by Latin

ARTHUR 40/

river, so that the kings and princes from the countries
beyond the seas might have the convenience of saiHng
up to it. On the other side the beauty of the meadows
and groves, and magnificence of the royal palaces, with
lofty gilded roofs that adorned it, made it even rival
the grandeur of Rome. It was also famous for two
churches, whereof one was adorned with a choir of
virgins, who devoted themselves wholly to the service of
God, and the other maintained a convent of priests.
Besides, there was a college of two hundred philoso-
phers, who, being learned in astronomy and the other
arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars,
and gave Arthur true predictions of the events that
would happen. In this place, therefore, which aiiforded
such delights, were preparations made for the ensuing
festival.

Ambassadors were then sent into several kingdoms,
to invite to court the princes both of Gaul and of the
adjacent islands. Accordingly there came Augusel, king
of Albania, now Scotland, Cadwallo, king of Venedotia,
now North Wales, Sater, king of Demetia, now South
Wales ; also the archbishops of the metropolitan sees,
London and York, and Dubricius, bishop of Caerleon.
the City of Legions. This prelate, who was primate of
Britain, was so eminent for his piety that he could cure
any sick person by his prayers. There were also the
counts of the principal cities, and many other worthies
of no less dignity.

From the adjacent islands came Guillamurius, king
of Ireland, Gunfasius, king of the Orkneys, Malvasius,
king of Iceland, Lot, king of Norway, Bedver, the but-
ler, Duke of Normandy, Kay, the sewer, Duke of Ande-

writers Urbs Legionum, the City of Legions. The former word being
rendered into Welsh by Caer, meaning city, and the latter contracted into
lleon. The river Usk retains its name in modern geography, and there
is a town or city of Caerleon upon it. though the city of Cardiff is
thought to be the scene of Arthur's court. Chester also bears in V/elsh the
name of Caerleon ; for Chester, derived from castra, Latin for camp, is the
designation of military headquarters.

Camelot is thought to be Winchester.

Sbalott is Guilford.

Hamo's Port is Southampton.

Carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the Scottish border.
But this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like
itself, military stations.

408 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

gavia; also the twelve peers of Gaul, and Hoel, Duke
of the Armorican Britons, with his nobility, who came
with such a train of mules, horses, and rich furniture
as it is difficult to describe. Besides these there re-
mained no prince of any consideration on this side of
Spain who came not upon this invitation. And no won-
der, when Arthur's munificence, which was celebrated
over the whole world, made him beloved by all people.
When all were assembled upon the day of the sol-
emnity the archbishops were conducted to the palace,
in order to place the crown upon the king's head. Then
Oubricius, inasmuch as the court was held in his dio-
cese, made himself ready to celebrate the office. As
soon as the king was invested with his royal habiliments
he was conducted in great pomp to the metropolitan
church, having four kings, viz., of Albania, Cornwall,
Demetia, and Venedotia, bearing four golden swords be-
fore him. On another part was the queen, dressed out
in her richest ornaments, conducted by the archbishops
and bishops to the Church of Virgins ; the four queens,
also, of the kings last mentioned, bearing before her
four white doves, according to ancient custom. When
the whole procession was ended so transporting was
the harmony of the musical instruments and voices,
whereof there was a vast variety in both churches, that
the knights who attended were in doubt which to pre-
fer, and therefore crowded from the one to the other
by turns, and were far from being tired of the solemrity,
though the whole day had been spent in it. At last,
when divine service was over at both churches, the king
and queen put off their crowns, and, putting on their
lighter ornaments, went to the banquet/ When they had
all taken their seats according to precedence, Kay, the
sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with a thousand young
noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire, served
up the dishes. From another part Bedver, the butler,
was followed by the same number of attendants, who
waited with all kinds of cups and drinking-vessels. And
there was food and drink in abundance, and everything
was of the best kind, and served in the best manner.
For at that time Britain had arrived at such a pitch of

ARTHUR 409

grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness it far sur-
passed all other kingdoms.

As soon as the banquets were over they went into
the fields without the city to divert themselves with vari-
ous sports, such as shooting with bows and arrows, toss-
ing the pike, casting of heavy stones and rocks, playing
at dice, and the like, and all these inoffensively, and
without quarrelling. In this manner were three days
spent, and after that they separated, and the kings and
noblemen departed to their several homes.

After this Arthur reigned five years in peace. Then
came ambassadors from Lucius Tiberius, Procurator
under Leo, Emperor of Rome, demanding tribute. But
Arthur refused to pay tribute, and prepared for war.
As soon as the necessary dispositions were made he
committed the government of his kingdom to his nephew
Modred and to Queen Guenever, and marched with his-
army to Hamo's Port, where the wind stood fair for
him. The army crossed over in safety, and landed
at the mouth of the river Barba. And there they
pitched their tents to wait the arrival of the kings of
the islands.

As soon as all the forces were arrived Arthur marched
forward to Augustodunum, and encamped on the banks
of the river Alba. Here repeated battles were fought,
in all which the Britons, under their valiant leaders,
Hoel, Duke of Armorica, and Gawain, nephew to Ar-
thur, had the advantage. At length Lucius Tiberius
determined to retreat, and wait for the Emperor Leo
to join him with fresh troops. But Arthur, anticipating
this event, took possession of a certain valley, and closed
up the way of retreat to Lucius, compelling him to fight
a decisive battle, in which Arthur lost some of the
bravest of his knights and most faithful followers. But
on the other hand Lucius Tiberius was slain, and his
army totally defeated. The fugitives dispersed over the
country, some to the by-ways and woods, some to cities
and towns, and all other places where they could hope
for safety.

Arthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was
over, and employed his time in restoring order and

410 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS '

settling the government. He then returned into Eng-
land, and celebrated his victories with great splendor.

Then the king stablished all his knights, and to them
that were not rich he gave lands, and charged them
all never to do outrage nor murder, and always to flee
treason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give
mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of for-
feiture of their worship and lordship; and always to do
ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen service, upon pain
of death. Also that no man take battle in a wrongful
quarrel, for no law, nor for any world's goods. Unto
this were all the knights sworn of the Table Round,
both old and young. And at every year were they sworn
at the high feast of Pentecost.

KING ARTHUR SLAYS THE GIANT OF ST. MICHAEL's

MOUNT

While the army was encamped in Brittany, awaiting
the arrival of the kings, there came a countryman to
Arthur, and told him that a giant, whose cave was on
a neighboring mountain, called St. Michael's Mount, had
for a long time been accustomed to carry off the chil-
dren of the peasants to devour them. "And now he
hath taken the Duchess of Brittany, as she rode with
her attendants, and hath carried her away in spite of all
they could do." "Now, fellow," said King Arthur,
"canst thou bring me there where this giant haunteth ?"
"Yea, sure," said the good man ; "lo, yonder where thou
seest two great fires, there shalt thou find him, and more.'
treasure than I suppose is in all Franc^ beside." Then
the king called to him Sir Bedver and ^ir Kay, and com-
manded them to make ready horse and harness for him-
self and them ; for after evening he would ride on pil-
grimage to St. Michael's Mount.

So they three departed, and rode forth till they came
to the foot of the mount. And there the king com-
manded them to tarry, for he would himself go up into
that mount. So he ascended the hill till he came to
a great fire, and there he found an aged woman sitting
by a new-made grave, making great sorrow. Then King

ARTHUR 411

Arthur saluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she
made such lamentation; to whom she answered: "Sir
knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil, and if he hear
thee speak, he will come and destroy thee. For ye
cannot make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so
strong. He hath murdered the Duchess, which here
lieth, who was the fairest of all the world, wife to Sir
Hoel, Duke of Brittany." "Dame," said the king, "I
come from the noble conqueror. King Arthur, to treat
with that tyrant." "Fie on such treaties," said she ; "he
setteth not by the king, nor by no man else." "Well,"
said Arthur, "I will accomplish my message for all your
fearful words." So he went forth by the crest of the
hill, and saw where the giant sat at supper, gnawing on
the limb of a man, and baking his broad limbs at the
fire, and three fair damsels lying bound, whose lot it
was to be devoured in their turn. When King Arthur
beheld that, he had great compassion on them, so that
his heart bled for sorrow. Then he hailed the giant,
saying, "He that all the world ruleth give thee short
life and shameful death. Why hast thou murdered this
Duchess? Therefore come forth, for this day thou
shalt die by my hand." Then the giant started up, and
took a great club, and smote at the king, and smote
off his coronal ; and then the king struck him in the
belly with his sword, and made a fearful wound. Then
the giant threw away his club, and caught the king in
his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. Then the three
maidens kneeled down and prayed for help and com-
fort for Arthur. And Arthur weltered and wrenched,
so that he was one while under, and another time above.
And so weltering and wallowing they rolled down the
hill, and ever as they weltered Arthur smote him with
his dagger ; and it fortuned they came to the place where
the two knights were. And when they saw the king
fast in the giant's arms they came and loosed him. Then
the king commanded Sir Kay to smite off the giant's
head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear, and
fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see and
beliold it. This was done, and anon it was known
through all the country, wherefor the people came and

412 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

thanked the king. And he said, "Give your thanks to
God; and take ye the giant's spoil and divide it among
you." And King Arthur caused a church to be builded
on that hill, in honor of St. Michael.

KING ARTHUR GETS A SWORD FROM THE LADY OF THE

LAKE

One day King Arthur rode forth, and on a sudden
he was ware of three churls chasing Merlin, to have
slain him. And the king rode unto them and bade
them, "Flee, churls !" Then were they afraid when
they saw a knight, and fled. "O Merlin," said Arthur,
"here hadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had I
not been by." "Nay," said Merlin, "not so, for I could
save myself if I would; but thou art more near thy
death than I am." So, as they went thus talking, King
Arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as
if to guard the pass. "Sir knight," said Arthur, "for
what cause abidest thou here?" Then the knight said,
"There may no knight ride this way unless he just with
me, for such is the custom of the pass." "I will amend
that custom," said the king. Then they ran together,
and they met so hard that their spears were shivered.
Then they drew their swords and fought a strong bat-
tle, with many great strokes. But at length the sword
of the knight smote King Arthur's sword in two pieces.
Then said the knight unto Arthur, "Thou art in my
power, whether to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou
yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt die."
"As for death," said King Arthur, "welcome be it when
it cometh ; but to yield me unto thee as recreant, I will
not." Then he leapt upon the knight, and took him
by the middle and threw him down; but the knight was
a passing strong man, and anon he brought Arthur
under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay
him. Then said Merlin, "Knight, hold thy hand, for
this knight is a man of more worship than thou art
aware of." "Why, who is he?" said the knight. "It is
King Arthur." Then would he have slain him for dread
of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; and

ARTHUR 413

therewith Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight,
so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin
took up King Arthur, and set him on his horse. "Alas !'"
said Arthur, "what hast thou done, Merlin ? hast thou
slain this good knight by thy crafts?" "Care ye not,"
said Merlin; "he is wholer than ye be. He is only
asleep, and will wake in three hours."

Then the king and he departed, and went till they
came to a hermit, that was a good man and a great
leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds, and ap-
plied good salves ; and the king was there three days,
and then were his wounds well amended, that he might
ride and go. So they departed, and as they rode Arthur
said, "I have no sword." "No matter," said Merlin;
"hereby is a sword that shall be yours." So they rode
till they came to a lake, which was a fair water and
broad. And in the midst of the lake Arthur was aware
of an arm clothed in white samite,^ that held a fair
sword in the hand. "Lo !" said Merlin, "yonder is that
sword that I spake of. It belongeth to the Lady of the
Lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it ; but if she
will not, it will not be in thy power to take it."

So Sir Arthur and Merlin alighted from their horses,
and went into a boat. And when they came to the
sword that the hand held Sir Arthur took it by the
handle and took it to him, and the arm and the hand
went under the water.

Then they returned unto the land and rode forth.
And Sir Arthur looked on the sword and liked it right
well.

So they rode unto Caerleon, whereof his knights were
passing glad. And when they heard of his adventures
they marvelled that he would jeopard his person so
alone. But all men of worship said it was a fine thing
to be under such a chieftain as would put his person
in adventure as other poor knights did.

1 Samite, a sort of silk stuff.

414 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

CHAPTER VI

SIR GAWAIN

Sir Gawatn was nephew to King Arthur, by his sis-
ter Morgana, married to Lot, king of Orkney, who was
by Arthur made king of Norway. Sir Gawain was one
of the most famous knights of the Round Table, and
is characterized by the romancers as the sage and cour-
teous Gawain. To this Chaucer alludes in his "Squiere's
Tale," where the strange knight "salueth" all the court

"With so high reverence and observance,
As well in speeche as in countenance,
That Gawain, with his olde curtesie,
Though he were come agen out of faerie,
Ne coude him not amenden with a word."

Gawain's brothers were Agrivain, Gahariet, and
Gareth.

SIR gawain's marriage

Once upon a time King Arthur held his court in
merry Carlisle, when a damsel came before him and
craved a boon. It was for vengeance upon a caitiff
knight, who had made her lover captive and despoiled
her of her lands. King Arthur commanded to bring
him his sword, Excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and
rode forth without delay to right the lady's wrong. Ere
long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and chal-
lenged him to the conflict. But tne castle stood on
magic ground, and the spell was such that no knight
could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his
strength decayed. King Arthur felt the charm, and
before a blow was struck, his sturdy limbs lost their
strength, and his head grew faint. He was fain to yield
himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who refused to
release him except upon condition that he should re-
turn at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to
the question, "What thing is it which women most de-

SIR GAWAIN 415

sire?" or in default thereof surrender himself and his
lands. King Arthur accepted the terms, and gave his
oath to return at the time appointed. During the year
the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of
all whom he met what thing it is which all women most
desire. Some told him riches ; some, pomp and state ;
some, mirth ; some, flattery ; and some, a gallant knight.
But in the diversity of answers he could find no sure
dependence. The year was well-nigh spent, when one
day, as he rode thoughtfully through a forest, he saw
sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous aspect that
he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in
seemly sort, made no answer. "What wight art thou,"
the lady said, "that will not speak to me? It may chance
that I may resolve thy doubts, though I be not fair of
aspect." "If thou wilt do so," said King Arthur,
"choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it
shall be given thee." "Swear me this upon thy faith,"
she said, and Arthur swore it. Then the lady told him
the secret, and demanded her reward, which was that
the king should find some fair and courtly knight to be
her husband.

King Arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and
told him one by one all the answers which he had re-
ceived from his various advisers, except the last, and
not one was admitted as the true one. "Now yield thee,
Arthur," the giant said, "for thou hast not paid thy
ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me."
Then King Arthur said :

"Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron,

I pray thee hold thy hand,
And give me leave to speak once more.

In rescue of my land.
This morn as I came over a moor,

I saw a lady set,
Between an oak and a green holly,

All clad in red scarlett.
She says all women would have their will.

This is their chief desire;
Now yield, as thou art a baron true.

That I have paid my hire."

"It was my sister that told thee this," the churlish

416 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

baron exclaimed. "Vengeance light on her! I will
some time or other do her as ill a turn."

King Arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart,
for he remembered the promise he was under to the
loathly lady to give her one of his young and gallant
knights for a husband. He told his grief to Sir Gawain,
his nephew, and he replied, "Be not sad, my lord, for I
will marry the loathly lady." King Arthur replied:

"Now nay, now nay, good Sir Gawaine,

My sister's son ye be;
The loathly lady's all too grim,
And all too foule for thee."

But Gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sor-
row of heart, consented that Gawain should be his
ransom. So one day the king and his knights rode to
the forest, met the loathly lady, and brought her to
the court. Sir Gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of his
companions as he best might, and the marriage was
solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. Chaucer
tells us :

". . . There was no joye ne feste at alle;
There n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe,
For prively he wed her on the morwe,
And all day after hid him as an owle,
So wo was him his wife loked so foule !"^

When night came, and they were alone together. Sir
Gawain could not conceal his aversion; and the lady
asked him why he sighed so heavily, and turned away
his face. He candidly confessed it was on account of
three things, her age, her ugliness, and her low degree.
The lady, not at all offended, replied with excellent argu-
ments to all his objections. She showed him that with
age is discretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and
that all true gentility depends, not upon the accident of
birth, but upon the character of the individual.

Sir Gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on
his bride, what was his amazement to perceive that she

'^N'as is tiot was, contracted; in modern phrase, there was not Mochel
sorwe is much sorrow; morwe is morrow.

SIR GAWAIN 417

wore no longer the unseemly aspect that had so dis-
tressed him. She then told him that the form she had
worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed
upon her by a wicked enchanter, and that she was con-
demned to wear it until two things should happen : one,
that she should obtain some young and gallant knight to
be her husband. This having been done, one-half of the
charm was removed. She was now at liberty to wear
her true form for half the time, and she bade him choose
whether he would have her fair by day, and ugly by
night, or the reverse. Sir Gawain would fain have had
her look her best by night, when he alone would see
her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, to others.
But she reminded him how much more pleasant it would
be to her to wear her best looks in the throng of knights
and ladies by day. Sir Gawain yielded, and gave up his
will to hers. This alone was wanting to dissolve the
charm. The lovely lady now with joy assured him
that she should change no more, but as she now was,
so would she remain by night as well as by day.

"Sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek,

Her eyen were black as sloe.
The ripening cherrye swelled her lippe.

And all her neck was snow.
Sir Gawain kist that ladye faire

Lying upon the sheete,
And swore, as he was a true knight.

The spice was never so swete."

The dissolution of the charm which had held the
lady also released her brother, the "grim baron," for
he too had been implicated in it. He ceased to be a
churlish oppressor, and became a gallant and generous
knight as any at Arthur's court.

418 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

CHAPTER VII

CARADOC BRIEFBRAS; OR, CARADOC WITH THE SHRUNKEN

ARM

Caradoc was the son of Ysenne, the beautiful niece
of Arthur. He was ignorant who his father was, till
it was discovered in the following manner: When the
youth was of proper years to receive the honors of
knighthood, King Arthur held a grand court for the
purpose of knighting him. On this occasion a strange
knight presented himself, and challenged the knights of
Arthur's court to exchange blow for blow with him.
His proposal was this to lay his neck on a block for
any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived
the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same
experiment. Sir Kay, who was usually ready to accept
all challenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and
declared that he would not accept it for all the wealth
in the world. And when the knight offered his sword,
with which the operation was to be performed, no per-
son ventured to accept it, till Caradoc, growing angry
at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the Round
Table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "Do you do
this as one of the best knights?" said the stranger.
"No," he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." The
stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow
which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks after
it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says
he will return v/hen the court shall be assembled next
year, and claim his turn. When the anniversary ar-
rived, both parties were punctual to their engagement.
Great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and
the whole court, in behalf of Caradoc, but the stranger
was inflexible. The young knight laid his head upon
the block, and more than once desired him to make an
end of the business,* and not keep him longer in so dis-
agreeable a state of expectation. At last the stranger
strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bids him

CARADOC BRIEFBRAS 419

rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father,
the enchanter Eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for
a son, having proved his courage and fidelity to his
word.

But the favor of enchanters is short-lived and un-
certain. Eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked
woman, who, to satisfy her pique against Caradoc, per-
suaded the enchanter to fasten on his arm a serpent,
which remained there sucking at his flesh and blood,
no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptib
or alleviate the torments which Caradoc endured.

Caradoc was betrothed to Guimier, sister to his bosom
friend, Cador, and daughter to the king of Cornwall.
As soon as they were informed of his deplorable con-
dition, they set out for Nantes, where Caradoc's castle
was, that Guimier might attend upon him. When
Caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was
that of joy and love. But soon he began to fear that
the sight of his emaciated form, and of his sufferings,
would disgust Guimier; and this apprehension became
so strong, that he departed secretly from Nantes, and
hid himself in a hermitage. He was sought far and
near by the knights of Arthur's court, and Cador made
a vow never to desist from the quest till he should have
found him. After long wandering, Cador discovered
his friend in the hermitage, reduced almost to a skele-
ton, and apparently near his death. All other means of
relief having already been tried in vain, Cador at last
prevailed on the enchanter Eliaures to disclose the only
method which could avail for his rescue. A maiden
must be found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving
him better than herself, so that she would expose her-
self to the same torment to deliver him. Two vessels
were then to be provided, the one filled with sour wine,
ind the other witli milk. Caradoc must enter the first,
so that the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden
must get into the other, and, exposing her bosom u])on
the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake
the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and in-
viting food. The vessels were to be placed three feet
apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other,

420 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

a knight was to cut him in two. If he failed in his blow,
Caradoc would indeed be delivered, but it would be only
to see his fair champion suffering the same cruel and
hopeless tonnent. The sequel may be easily foreseen.
Guimier willingly exposed herself to the perilous ad-
venture, and Cador, with a lucky blow, killed the ser-
pent. The arm in which Caradoc had suffered so long
recovered its strength, but not its shape, in consequence
of which he was called Caradoc Briefbras, Caradoc of
the Shrunken Arm.

Caradoc and Guimier are the hero and heroine of
the ballad of the "Boy and the Mantle," which follows :

"The Boy and the Mantle

"In Carlisle dwelt King Arthur, ,

A prince of passing might.
And there maintained his Table Round,
Beset with many a knight.

"And there he kept his Christmas,
With mirth and princely cheer.
When lo ! a strange and cunning boy
Before him did appear.

"A kirtle and a mantle

This boy had him upon,
With brooches, rings, and ouches.
Full daintily bedone.

"He had a sash of silk
About his middle meet;
And thus with seemly curtesie
He did King Arthur greet :

" 'God speed thee, brave King Arthur.
Thus feasting in thy bov/er.
And Guenever, thy goodly queen,
That fair and peerless flower.

" 'Ye gallant lords and lordlings,
I wish you all take heed.
Lest what ye deem a blooming rose
Should prove a cankered weed.*

. . "Then straightway from his bosom

A little wand he drew;
And with it eke a mantle.
Of wondrous shape and hue.

CARADOC BRIEFBRAS 421

" 'Now have thou here, King Arthur,
Have this here of me,
And give unto thy comely queen,
All shapen as you see.

"'No wife it shall become,

That once hath been to blame.'
Then every knight in Arthur's court
Sly glanced at his dame.

"And first came Lady Guenever,
The mantle she must try.
This dame she was new-fangled,^
And of a roving eye.

"When she had taken the mantle.
And all with it was clad,
From top to toe it shivered down,
As though with shears beshred.

"One while it was too long.
Another while too short.
And wrinkled on her shoulders,
In most unseemly sort.

"Now green, now red it seemed.
Then all of sable hue;
'Beshrew me,' quoth King Arthur,
'I think thou be'st not true!'

"Down she threw the mantle.
No longer would she stay;
But, storming like a fury.
To her chamber flung away.

"She cursed the rascal weaver.
That had the mantle wrought;
And doubly cursed the froward imp
Who thither had it brought.

"'I had rather live in deserts.
Beneath the greenwood tree.
Than here, base king, among thy grooms
The sport of them and thee.'

"Sir Kay called forth his lady.
And bade her to come near :
'Yet dame, if thou be guilty,
I pray thee now forbear.'

^ New-fangled fond of novelty.

422 KING ARTHQR AND HIS KNIGHTS

"This lady, pertly giggling,

With forward step came on,
And boldly to the little boy
With fearless face is gone.

"When she had taken the mantle,

With purpose for to wear,

It shrunk up to her shoulder,

And left her back all bare.

"Then every merry knight,
That was in Arthur's court.
Gibed and laughed and flouted,
To see that pleasant sport.

"Down she threw the mantle.
No longer bold or gay,
But, with a face all pale and wan,-
To her chamber slunk away.

"Then forth came an old knight

A pattering o'er his creed,

And proffered to the little boy

Five nobles to his meed :

" 'And all the time of Christmas
Plum-porridge shall be thine,
If thou wilt let my lady fair
Within the mantle shine.'

"A saint his lady seemed,

With step demure and slow,
And gravely to the mantle
With mincing face doth go.

"When she the same had taken
That was so fine and tljin,
It shrivelled all about her.
And showed her dainty skin.

"Ah ! little did her mincing.
Or his long prayers bestead;
She had no more hung on her
Than a tassel and a thread.

"Down she threw the mantle,

With terror and dismay.
And with a face of scarlet
To her chamber hied away.

CARADOC BRIEFBRAS 423

"Sir Cradock called his lady,
And bade her to come near :
'Come win this mantle, lady,
And do me credit here:

" 'Come win this mantle, lady.
For now it shall be thine,
If thou hast never done amiss.
Since first I made thee mine.'

"The lady, gently blushing,
With modest grace came on ;
And now to try the wondrous charm
Courageously is gone.

"When she had ta'en the mantle,

And put it on her back.
About the hem it seemed
To wrinkle and to crack.

"'Lie still,' she cried, 'O mantle!
And shame me not for naught;
I'll freely own whate'er amiss
Or blameful I have wrought.

" 'Once I kissed Sir Cradock
Beneath the greenwood tree;
Once 1 kissed Sir Cradock's mouth,
Before he married me.'

"When she had thus her shriven.
And her worst fault had told,
The mantle soon became her,

Right comely as it should.

"Most rich and fair of color,

Like gold it glittering shone.
And much the knights in Arthur's court
Admired her every one."

The ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a
similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a
drinking horn, in both of which the result was equally
favorable with the first to Sir Cradock and his lady. It
then concludes as follows :

"Thus boar's head, horn, and mantle
Were this fair couple's meed;
And all such constant lovers,
God send them well to speed."

Percy's Reliques.

424 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

CHAPTER VIII

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE

King Ban, of Brittany, the faithful ally of Arthur
was attacked by his enemy Claudas, and after a long
war saw himself reduced to the possession of a single
fortress, where he was besieged by his enemy. In this
extremity he determined to solicit the assistance of
Arthur, and escaped in a dark night, with his wife Helen
and his infant son Launcelot, leaving his castle in the
hands of his seneschal, who immediately surrendered
the place to Claudas. The flames of his burning citadel
reached the eyes of the unfortunate monarch during his
flight and he expired with grief. The wretched Helen,
leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receive
the last sighs of her husband, and on returning per-
ceived the little Launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who,
on the approach of the queen, threw herself into the lake
with the child. This nymph was Viviane, mistress of
the enchanter Merlin, better known by the name of the
Lady of the Lake. Launcelot received his appellation
from having been educated at the court of this en-
chantress, whose palace was situated in the midst, not of
a real, but, like the appearance which deceives the Afri-
can traveller, of an imaginary lake, whose deluding re-
semblance served as a barrier to her residence. Here
she dwelt not alone, but in the midst of a numerous
retinue, and a splendid court of Knights and damsels, j

The queen, after her double loss, retired to a con- '
vent, where she was joined by the widow of Bohort,
for this good king had died of grief on hearing of the J
death of his brother Ban. His two sons, Lionel and
Bohort, were rescued by a faithful knight, and arrived
in the shape of greyhounds at the palace of the lake,
where, having resumed their natural form, they were
educated along with their cousin Launcelot.

The fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of
eighteen, conveyed him to the court of Arthur for the

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE 425

purpose of demanding his admission to the honor of
knighthood; and at the first appearance of the youth-
ful candidate the graces of his person, which were not
inferior to his courage and skill in arms, made an in-
stantaneous and indelible impression on the heart of
Guenever, while her charms inspired him with an
equally ardent and constant passion. The mutual at-
tachment of these lovers exerted, from that time forth,
an influence over the whole history of Arthur. For the
sake of Guenever, Launcelot achieved the conquest of
Northumberland, defeated Gallehaut. King of the
Marches, who afterwards became his most faithful
friend and ally, exposed himself in numberless encoun-
ters, and brought hosts of prisoners to the feet of his
sovereign.

SIR LAUNCELOT

After King Arthur was come from Rome into Eng-
land all the knights of the Table Round resorted unto
him and made him many justs and tournaments. And
in especial Sir Launcelot of the Lake in all tournaments
and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death,
passed all other knights, and was never overcome, ex-
cept it were by treason or enchantment ; and he increased
marvellously in worship, wherefore Queen Guenever had
him in great favor, above all other knights. And for
certain he loved the queen again above all other ladies ;
and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her
from peril, through his noble chivalry. Thus Sir
Launcelot rested him long with play and game, and then
he thought to prove himself in strange adventures; so
he bade his nephew. Sir Lionel, to make him ready,
"for we two will seek adventures." So they mounted
on their horses, armed at all sights, and rode into a
forest, and so into a deep plain. And the weather was
hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot had great desire to
sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple-tree that
stood by a hedge, and he said : "Brother, yonder is a fair
shadow there may we rest us and our horses." "Tt is
well said," replied Sir Launcelot. So they there alighted,
and Sir Launcelot laid him down, and his helm under

426 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

his head, and soon was asleep passing fast. And Sir
Lionel waked while he slept. And presently there came
three knights riding as fast as ever they might ride, and
there followed them but one knight. And Sir Lionel
thought he never saw so great a knight before. So with-
in a while this great knight overtook one of those
knights, and smote him so that he fell to the earth.
Then he rode to the second knight and smote him, and
so he did to the third knight. Then he alighted down
and bound all the three knights fast with their own
bridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do thus, he thought
to assay him, and made him ready silently, not to awake
Sir Launcelot, and rode after the strong knight, and
bade him turn. And the other smote Sir Lionel so hard
that horse and man fell to the earth ; and then he
alighted down and bound Sir Lionel, and threw him
across his own horse ; and so he served them all four,
and rode with them away to his own castle. And when
he came there he put them in a deep prison, in which
were many more knights in great distress.

Now while Sir Launcelot lay under the apple-tree
sleeping, there came by him four queens of great estate.
And that the heat should not grieve them, there rode
four knights about them, and bare a cloth of green silk
on four spears, betwixt them and the sun. And the
queens rode on four white mules.

Thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse
grimly neigh. Then they were aware of a sleeping
knight, that lay all armed under an apple-tree ; and as
the queens looked on his face, they knew it was Sir
Launcelot. Then they began to strive for that knight,
and each one said she would have him for her love.
"We will not strive," said Morgane le Fay, that was
King Arthur's sister, "for I will put an enchantment
upon him, that he shall not wake for six hours, and we
will take him away to my castle; and then when he is
surely within my hold, 1 will take the enchantment from
him, and then let him choose which of us he will have
for his love." So the enchantment was cast upon Sir
Launcelot. And then they laid him upon his shield, and
bare him so on horseback between two knights, and

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE 427

brought him unto the castle and laid him in a chamber,
and at night they sent him his supper.

And on the morning came early those four queens,
richly dight, and bade him good morning, and he them
again. "Sir knight," they said, "thou must understand
thou art our prisoner; and we know thee well, that thou
art Sir Launcelot of the Lake, King Ban's son, and
that thou art the noblest knight living. And we know
well that there can no lady have thy love but one, and
that is Queen Guenever; and now thou shalt lose her
for ever, and she thee; and therefore it behooveth thee
now to choose one of us. I am the Queen Morgane le
Fay, and here is the Queen of North Wales, and the
Queen of Eastland, and the Queen of the Isles. Now
choose one of us which thou wilt have, for if thou
choose not, in this prison thou shalt die." "This is a
hard case," said Sir Launcelot, "that either I must die,
or else choose one of you ; yet had I liever to die in
this prison with worship, than to have one of you for
my paramour, for ye be false enchantresses." "Well."
said the queens, "is this your answer, that ye will refuse
us." "Yea, on my life it is," said Sir Launcelot. Then
they departed, making great sorrow.

Then at noon came a damsel unto him with his din-
ner, and asked him, "What cheer?" "Truly, fair dam-
sel," said Sir Launcelot, "never so ill." "Sir," said she,
"if you will be ruled by me, I will help you out of this
distress. If ye will promise me to help my father on
Tuesday next, who hath made a tournament betwixt him
and the king of North Wales ; for last Tuesday my
father lost the field." "Fair maiden," said Sir Launce-
lot, "tell me what is your father's name, and then will
I give you an answer." "Sir knight," she said, "my
father is King Bagdemagus." "I know him well," said
Sir Launcelot, "for a noble king and a good knight; and,
by the faith of my body, I will be ready to do your
father and you service at that day."

So she departed, and came on the next morning early
and found him ready, and brought him out of twelve
locks, and brought him to his own horse, and lightly he
saddled him, and so rode forth.

428 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

And on the Tuesday next he came to a little wood
where the tournament should be. And there were scaf-
folds and holds, that lords and ladies might look on,
and give the prize. Then came into the field the king
of North Wales, with eightscore helms, and King Badge-
magus came with fourscore helms. And then they
couched their spears, and came together with a great
dash, and there were overthrown at the first encounter
twelve of King Bagdemagus's party and six of the king
of North Wales's party, and King Bagdemagus's party
had the worse.

With that came Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and thrust
in with his spear in the thickest of the press; and he
smote down five knights ere he held his hand; and he
smote down the king of North Wales, and he brake his
thigh in that fall. And then the knights of the king
of North Wales would just no more; and so the gree
was given to King Bagdemagus.

And Sir Launcelot rode forth with King Bagdemagus
unto his castle ; and there he had passing good cheer,
both with the king and with his daughter. And on the
morn he took his leave, and told the king he would
go and seek his brother, Sir Lionel, that went from him
when he slept. So he departed, and by adventure he
came to the same forest where he was taken sleeping.
And in the highway he met a damsel riding on a white
palfrey, and they saluted each other. "Fair damsel,"
said Sir Launcelot, "know ye in this country any ad-
ventures?" "Sir knight," said the damsel, "here are
adventures near at hand, if thou durst pursue them."
"Why should I not prove adventures?" said Sir
Launcelot, "since for that cause came I hither." "Sir,"
said she, "hereby dwelleth a knight that will not be
overmatched for any man I know, except thou over-
match him. His name is Sir Turquine, and, as I un-
derstand, he is a deadly enemy of King Arthur, and
he has in his prison good knights of Arthur's court,
threescore and more, that he hath won with his own
hands." "Damsel," said Launcelot, "I pray you bring
me unto this knight." So she told him, "Hereby, within
this mile, is his castle, and by it on the left hand is a

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE 429

ford for horses to drink of, and over that ford there
groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang many shields
that good knights wielded aforetime, that are now pris-
oners; and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and
latten, and if thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear
tidings." And Sir Launcelot departed, and rode as the
damsel had shown him, and shortly he came to the ford,
and the tree where hung the shields and the basin. And
among the shields he saw Sir Lionel's and Sir Hector's
shields, besides many others of knights that he knew.

Then Sir Launcelot struck on the basin with the butt
of his spear; and long he did so, but he saw no man.
And at length he was ware of a great knight that drove
a horse before him, and across the horse there lay an
armed knight bounden. And as they came near, Sir
Launcelot thought he should know the captive knight.
Then Sir Launcelot saw that it was Sir Gaheris, Sir
Gawain's brother, a knight of the Table Round. "Now,
fair knight," said Sir Launcelot, "put that wounded
knight off the horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us
two prove our strength. For, as it is told me, thou hast
done great despite and shame unto knights of the Round
Table, therefore now defend thee." "If thou be of the
Table Round," said Sir Turquine, "I defy thee and all
thy fellowship." "That is overmuch said," said Sir
Launcelot.

Then they put their spears in the rests, and came
together with their horses as fast as they might run.
And each smote the other in the middle of their shields,
so that their horses fell under them, and the knights
were both staggered ; and as soon as they could clear
their horses they drew out their swords and came to-
gether eagerly, and each gave the other many strong
strokes, for neither shield nor harness might withstand
their strokes. So within a while both had grimly
wounds, and bled grievously. Then at the last they
were breathless both, and stood leaning upon their
swords. "Now, fellow," said Sir Turquine, "thou art
the stoutest man that ever I met with, and best breathed ;
and so be it thou be not the knight that I hate above all
other knights, the knight that slew my brother, Sir

430 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

Carados, I will gladly accord with thee ; and for thy
love I will deliver all the prisoners that I have."

"What knight is he that thou hatest so above others?"
"Truly," said Sir Turquine, "his name is Sir Launcelot
of the Lake." "I am Sir Launcelot of the Lake, King
Ban's son of Benwick, and very knight of the Table
Round; and now I defy thee do thy best." "Ah!" said
Sir Turquine, "Launcelot, thou art to me the most wel-
come that ever was knight; for we shall never part till
the one of us be dead." And then they hurtled together
like two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their swords
and shields, so that sometimes they fell, as it were,
headlong. Thus they fought two hours and more, till
the ground where they fought was all bepurpled with
blood.

Then at the last Sir Turquine waxed sore faint, and
gave somewhat aback, and bare his shield full low for
weariness. That spied Sir Launcelot, and leapt then
upon him fiercely as a lion, and took him by the beaver
of his helmet, and drew him down on his knees. And
he raised off his helm, and smote his neck in sunder.

And Sir Gaheris, when he saw Sir Turquine slain,
said, "Fair lord, I pray you tell me your name, for this
day I say ye are the best knight in the world, for ye
have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and
the best knight except you that ever I saw." "Sir, my
name is Sir Launcelot du Lac, that ought to help you
of right for King Arthur's sake, and in especial for
Sir Gawain's sake, your own dear brother. Now I pray
you, that ye go into yonder castle, and set free all the
prisoners ye find there, for I am surg ye shall find there
many knights of the Table Round, and especially my
brother Sir Lionel. I pray you greet them all from
me, and tell them I bid them take there such stufif as
they find; and tell my brother to go unto the court and
abide me there, for by the feast of Pentecost I think
to be there ; but at this time I may not stop, for I have
adventures on hand." So he departed, and Sir Gaheris
rode into the castle, and took the keys from the porter,
and hastily opened the prison door and let out all the
prisoners. There was Sir Kay, Sir Brandeles, and Sir

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE 431

Galynde, Sir Bryan, and Sir Alyduke, Sir Hector de
Marys, and Sir Lionel, and many more. And when
they saw Sir Gaheris they all thanked him, for they
thought, because he was wounded, that he had slain Sir
Turquine. "Not so," said Sir Gaheris ; "it was Sir
Launcelot that slew him, right worshipfully ; I saw it
with mine eyes."

Sir Launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair
castle, and therein he found an old gentlewoman, who
lodged him with good- will, and there he had good cheer
for him and his horse. And when time was, his host
brought him to a fair chamber over the gate to his bed.
Then Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness
by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. And
soon after, there came one on horseback and knocked
at the gate in great haste ; and when Sir Launcelot heard
this, he arose and looked out of the window, and saw
by the moonlight three knights riding after that one
man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, and
that one knight turned on them knightly again and de-
fended himself. "Truly," said Sir Launcelot, "yonder
one knight will I help, for it is shame to see three
knights on one." Then he took his harness and went
out at the window by a sheet down to the four knights;
and he said aloud, "Turn you knights unto me, and
leave your fighting with that knight." Then the knights
left Sir Kay, for it was he they were upon, and turned
unto Sir Launcelot, and struck many great strokes at
Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then Sir
Kay addressed him to help Sir Launcelot, but he said,
"Nay, sir, I will none of your help ; let me alone with
them." So Sir Kay suffered him to do his will, and
stood one side. And within six strokes Sir Launcelot
had stricken them down.

Then they all cried, "Sir knight, we yield us unto
you." "As to that," said Sir Launcelot, "I will not take
your yielding unto me. If so be ye will yield you unto
Sir Kay the Seneschal, I will save your lives, but else
not." "Fair knight," then they said, "we will do as
thou commandest us." "Then shall ye," said Sir Launce-
lot, "on Whitsunday next, go unto the court of King

432 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

Arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto Queen
Guenever, and say that Sir Kay sent you thither to be
her prisoners." "Sir," they said, "it shall be done, by
the faith of our bodies;" and then they swore, every
knig>ht upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered
them to depart.

On the morn Sir Launcelot rose early and left Sir
Kay sleeping; and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay's armor,
and his shield, and armed him, and went to the stable
and took his horse, and so he departed. Then soon
after arose Sir Kay, and missed Sir Launcelot. And
then he espied that he had taken his armor and his
horse. "Now, by my faith, I know well," said Sir Kay,
"that he will grieve some of King Arthur's knights, for
they will deem that it is I, and will be bold to meet him.
But by cause of his armor I am sure I shall ride in
peace." Then Sir Kay thanked his host and departed.

Sir Launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw
four knights, under an oak, and they were of Arthur's
court. There was Sir Sagramour le Desirus, and
Hector de Marys, and Sir Gawain, and Sir Uwaine. As
they spied Sir Launcelot they judged by his arms it
had been Sir Kay. "Now, by my faith," said Sir
Sagramour, "I will prove Sir Kay's might;" and got
his spear in his hand, and came towards Sir Launcelot.
Therewith Sir Launcelot couched his spear against him,
and smote Sir Sagramour so sore that horse and man
fell both to the earth. Then said Sir Hector, "Now shah
ye see what I may do with him." But he fared worse
than Sir Sagramour, for Sir Launcelot's spear went
through his shoulder and bare him from his horse to the
ground. "By my faith," said Sir Uwaine, "yonder is a
strong knight, and I fear he hath slain Sir Kay, and
taken his armor." And therewith Sir Uwaine took his
spei.r in hand, and rode toward Sir Launcelot; and Sir
Launcelot met him on the plain and gave him such a
buffet that he was staggered, and wist not where he was.
"Now see I well," said Sir Gawain, "that I must en-
counter with that knight." Then he adjusted his shield,
and took a good spear in his hand, and Sir Launcelot
knew him well. Then they let run their horses with

LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE 433

all their mights, and each knight smote the other in the
middle of his shield. But Sir Gawain's spear broke, and
Sir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse
fell over backward. Then Sir Launcelot passed by
smiling with himself, and he said, "Good luck be with
him that made this spear, for never came a better into
my hand." Then the four knights went each to the
other and comforted one another. "What say ye to this
adventure," said Sir Gawain, "that one spear hath felled
us all four?" "I dare lay my head it is Sir Launcelot,"
said Sir Hector; "I know it by his riding."

And Sir Launcelot rode through many strange coun-
tries, till by fortune he came to a fair castle ; and as
he passed beyond the castle he thought he heard two
bells ring. And then he perceived how a falcon came
flying over his head, toward a high elm; and she had
long lunys^ about her feet, and she flew unto the elm
to take her perch, and the lunys got entangled in the
bough; and when she would have taken her flight, she
hung by the legs fast, and Sir Launcelot saw how she
hung, and beheld the fair falcon entangled, and he was
sorry for her. Then came a lady out of the castle and
cried aloud, "O Launcelot, Launcelot, as thou art the
flower of all knights, help me to get my hawk ; for if
my hawk be lost, my lord will slay me. he is so hasty."
"What is your lord's name?" said Sir Launcelot. "His
name is Sir Phelot, a knight that belongeth to the king
of North Wales." "Well, fair lady, since ye know my
name, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will
do what I may to get your hawk ; and yet in truth I
am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high, and few
boughs to help me." And therewith Sir Launcelot
alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and prayed the
lady to unarm him. And when he was unarmed, he put
off his jerkin, and with might and force he clomb up
to the falcon, and tied the lunys to a rotten bough, and
threw the hawk down with it ; and the lady got the
hawk in her hand. Then suddenly there came out of
the castle her husband, all armed, aiid with his naked
sword in his hand, and said, "O Knight Launcelot, now

^ Lunys, the string with which the falcon is held.

434 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

have I got thee as I would," and stood at the boll of the
tree to slay him. "Ah, lady !" said Sir Launcelot, "why
have ye betrayed me?" "She hath done," said Sir
Phelot, "but as I commanded her; and therefore there
is none other way but thine hour is come, and thou
musi die." "That were shame unto thee," said Sir
Launcelot ; "thou an armed knight to slay a naked man
by treason." "Thou gettest none other grace," said Sir
Phelot, "and therefore help thyself if thou canst."
"Alas !" said Sir Launcelot, "that ever a knight should
die weaponless !" And therewith he turned his eyes up-
ward and downward; and over his head he saw a big
bough leafless, and he brake it off from the trunk. And
then he came lower, and watched how his own horse
stood; and suddenly he leapt on the further side of his
horse from the knight. Then Sir Phelot lashed at him
eagerly, meaning to have slain him. But Sir Launcelot
put away the stroke, with the big bough, and smote Sir
Phelot therewith on the side of the head, so that he
fell down in a swoon to the ground. Then Sir Launce-
lot took his sword out of his hand and struck his head
from the body. Then said the lady, "Alas ! why hast
thou slain my husband?" "I am not the cause," said
Sir Launcelot, "for with falsehood ye would have slain
me, and now it is fallen on yourselves." Thereupon
Sir Launcelot got all his armor, and put it upon him
hastily, for fear of more resort, for the knight's castle
was so nigh. And as soon as he might, he took his horse
and departed, and thanked God he had escaped that
adventure.

And two days before the feast/ of Pentecost, Sir
Launcelot came home ; and the king and all the court
were passing glad of his coming. And when Sir Gawain,
Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramour, and Sir Llector de Marys
saw Sir Launcelot in Sir Kay's armor then they wist
well it was he that smote them down, all with one spear.
Then there was laughing and merriment among them ;
and from time to time came all the knights that Sir
Turquine had prisoners, and they all honored and wor-
shipped Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gaheris said, "I saw
all the battle from the beginning to the end," and he

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CART 435

told King Arthur all how it was. Then Sir Kay told
the king how Sir Launcelot had rescued him, and how
he "made the knights yield to me, and not to him."
And there they were, all three, and confirmed it all
"And, by my faith," said Sir Kay, "because Sir Launce-
lot took my harness and left me his, I rode in peace,
and no man would have to do with me."

And so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest
name of any knight of the world, and most was he
honored of high and low.

CHAPTER IX

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CART

It befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever
called to her knights of the Table Round, and gave
them warning that early upon the morrow she would
ride a-maying into the woods and fields beside West-
minster; "and I warn you that there be none of you
but he be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green,
either silk or cloth ; and I shall bring with me ten
ladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him,
and every knight shall have a squire and two yeoman,
and all well horsed."

"For thus it chanced one morn when all the court.
Green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the May,
Had been, their wont, a-maying."

Guinevere.

So they made them ready ; and these were the names of
the knights : Sir Kay the Seneschal, Sir Agrivaine. Sir
Brandiles, Sir Sagramour le Desirus, Sir Dodynas le
Sauvage, Sir Ozanna, Sir Ladynas, Sir Persant of Indc,
Sir Ironside, and Sir Pelleas ; and these ten knights
made them ready, in the freshest manner, to ride with
the queen. So upon the morn they took their horses
with the queen, and rode a-maying in woods and mead-
ows, as it pleased them, in great joy and delight. Now

436 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

there was a knight named Maleagans, son to King
Brademagus, who loved Queen Guenever passing well,
and so had he done long and many years. Now this
knight. Sir Maleagans, learned the queen's purpose, and
that she had no men of arms with her but the ten noble
knights all arrayed in green for maying; so he prepared
him twenty men of arms, and a hundred archers, to take
captive the queen and her knights.

"In the merry month of May,
In a morn at break of day.
With a troop of damsels playing,
The Queen, forsooth, went forth a-maying."

Old Song.

So when the queen had mayed, and all were bedecked
with herbs, mosses, and flowers in the best manner and
freshest, right then came out of a wood Sir Maleagans
with eightscore men well harnessed, and bade the queen
and her knights yield them prisoners. "Traitor knight,"
said Queen Guenever, "what wilt thou do? Wilt thou
shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art -a king's
son, and a knight of the Table Round, and how thou art
about to dishonor all knighthood and thyself?" "Be it
as it may," said Sir Maleagans, "know you well, madam,
I have loved you many a year and never till now could
I get you to such advantage as I do now; and therefore
I will take you as I find you." Then the ten knights of
the Round Table drew their swords, and the other party
run at them with their spears, and the ten knights man-
fully abode them, and smote away their spears. Then
they lashed together with swords till several were smit-
ten to the earth. So when the que^n saw her knights
thus dolefully oppressed, and needs must be slain at the
last, then for pity and sorrow she cried, "Sir Maleagans,
slay not my noble knights and I will go with you, upon
this covenant, that they be led with me wheresoever thou
leadest me." "Madame," said Maleagans, "for your
sake they shall be led with you into my own castle, if
that ye will be ruled, and ride with me." Then Sir
Maleagans charged them all that none should depart
from the queen, for he dreaded lest Sir Launcelot should
have knowledge of what had been done.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CART 437

Then the queen privily called unto her a page of her
chamber that was swiftly horsed, to whom she said,
"Go thou when thou seest thy time, and bear this ring
unto Sir Launcelot, and pray him as he loveth me,
that he will see me and rescue me. And spare not thy
horse," said the queen, "neither for water nor for land."
So the child espied his time, and lightly he took his
horse with the spurs and departed as fast as he might.
And when Sir Maleagans saw him so flee, he under-
stood that it was by the queen's commandment for to
warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed
chased him, and shot at him, but the child went from
them all. Then Sir Maleagans said to the queen,
"Madam, ye are about to betray me, but I shall ar-
range for Sir Launcelot that he shall not come lightly
at you." Then he rode with her and them all to his
castle, in all the haste that they might. And by the way
Sir Maleagans laid in ambush the best archers that he
had to wait for Sir Launcelot. And the child came to
Westminster and found Sir Launcelot and told his mes-
sage and delivered him the queen's ring. "Alas !" said
Sir Launcelot, "now am I shamed for ever, unless I
may rescue that noble lady." Then eagerly he asked
his armor and put it on him, and mounted his horse and
rode as fast as he might; and men say he took the water
at Westminster Bridge, and made his horse swim over
Thames unto Lambeth. Then within a while he came
to a wood where was a narrow way ; and there the
archers were laid in ambush. And they shot at him and
smote his horse so that he fell. Then Sir Launcelot left
his horse and went on foot, but there lay so many
ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him that
he might not meddle with them. "Alas ! for shame,"
said Sir Launcelot, "that ever one knight should betray
another ! but it is an old saw, a good man is never in
danger, but when he is in danger of a coward." Then
Sir Launcelot went awhile and he was exceedingly cum-
bered by his armor, his shield, and his spear, and all
that belonged to him. Then by chance there came by
him a cart that came thither to fetch wood.

Now at this time carts were little used except for

438 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

carrying offal and for conveying criminals to execution.
But Sir Launcelot took no thought of anything but the
necessity of haste for the purpose of rescuing the queen ;
so he demanded of the carter that he should take him
in and convey him as speedily as possible for a liberal
reward. The carter consented, and Sir Launcelot placed
himself in the cart and only lamented that with much
jolting he made but little progress. Then it happened
Sir Gawain passed by and seeing an armed knight travel-
ling in that unusual way he drew near to see who it
might be. Then Sir Launcelot told him how the queen
had been carried off, and how, in hastening to her res-
cue, his horse had been disabled and he had been com-
pelled to avail himself of the cart rather than give up
his enterprise. Then Sir Gawain said, "Surely it is un-
worthy of a knight to travel in such sort;" but Sir
Launcelot heeded him not.

At nightfall they arrived at a castle and the lady
thereof came out at the head of her damsels to welcome
Sir Gawain. But to admit his companion, whom she
supposed to be a criminal, or at least a prisoner, it
pleased her not; however, to oblige Sir Gawain, she
consented. At supper Sir Launcelot came near being
consigned to the kitchen and was only admitted to the
lady's table at the earnest solicitation of Sir Gawain.
Neither would the damsels prepare a bed for him. He
seized the first he found unoccupied and was left un-
disturbed.

Next morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a
train accompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the
queen. Sir Gawain thought it mighvbe so, and became
equally eager to depart. The lady of the castle sup-
plied Sir Launcelot with a horse and they traversed
the plain at full speed. They learned from some trav-
ellers whom they met. that there were two roads which
led to the castle of Sir Maleagans. Here therefore the
friends separated. Sir Launcelot found his way besec
with obstacles, which he encountered successfully, but not
without much loss of time. As evening approached he
was met by a young and sportive damsel, who gayly
proposed to him a supper at her castle. The knight,

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CART 439

who was hungry and weary, accepted the offer, though
with no very good grace. He followed the lady to her
castle and ate voraciously of her supper, but was quite
impenetrable to all her amorous advances. Suddenly
the scene changed and he was assailed by six furious
ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most of
them were speedily disabled, when again there was a
change and he found himself alone with his fair hostess,
who informed him that she was none other than his
guardian fairy, who had but subjected him to tests of
his courage and fidelity. The next day the fairy broughl
him on his road, and before parting gave him a ring,
which she told him would by its changes of color dis-
close to him all enchantments, and enable him to subdue
them.

Sir J^auncelot pursued his journey, without being
much incommoded except by the taunts of travellers,
who all seemed to have learned, by some means, his
disgraceful drive in the cart. One, more insolent than
the rest, had the audacity to interrupt him during din-
ner, and even to risk a battle in support of his pleasan-
try. Launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed
him to be carted in his turn.

At night he was received at another castle, with great
apparent hospitality, but found himself in the morning
in a dungeon, and loaded with chains. Consulting his
ring, and finding that this was an enchantment, he burst
his chains, seized his armor in spite of the visionary
monsters who attempted to defend it, broke open the
gates of the tower, and continued his journey. At length
his progress was checked by a wide and rapid torrent,
which could only be passed on a narrow bridge, on
which a false step would prove his destruction. Launce-
lot, leading his horse by the bridle, and making him
swim by his side, passed over the bridge, and was at-
tacked as soon as he reached the bank by a lion and
a leopard, both of which he slew, and then, exhausted
and bleeding, seated himself on the grass, and endeav-
ored to bind up his wounds, when he was accosted by
Brademagus, the father of Maleagans, whose castle was
then in sight, and at no great distance. This king, no

440 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

less courteous than his son was haughty and insolent,
after complimenting Sir Launcelot on the valor and
skill he had displayed in the perils of the bridge and
the wild beasts, offered him his assistance, and informed
him that the queen was safe in his castle, but could only
be rescued by encountering Maleagans. Launcelot de-
manded the battle for the next day, and accordingly it
took place, at the foot of the tower, and tinder the eyes
of the fair captive. Launcelot was enfeebled by his
wounds, and fought not with his usual spirit, and the
contest for a time was doubtful ; till Guenever exclaimed,
"Ah, Launcelot ! my knight, truly have I been told that
thou art no longer worthy of me !" These words in-
stantly revived the drooping knight ; he resumed at once
his usual superiority, and soon laid at his feet his
haughty adversary.

He was on the point of sacrificing him to his resent-
ment, when Guenever, moved by the entreaties of Brade-
magus, ordered him to withhold the blow, and he obeyed.
The castle and its prisoners were now at his disposal.
Launcelot hastened to the apartment of the queen, threw
himself at her feet, and was about to kiss her hand,
when she exclaimed, "Ah, Launcelot ! why do I see thee
again, yet feel thee to be no longer worthy of me, after
having been disgracefully drawn about the country in
a " She had not time to finish the phrase, for her
lover suddenly started from her, and, bitterly lamenting
that he had incurred the displeasure of his sovereign
lady, rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and his
shield to the right and left, ran furiously into the woods,
and disappeared. /

It seems that the story of the aborninable cart, which
haunted Launcelot at every step, had reached the ears
of Sir Kay, who had told it to the queen, as a proof
that her knight mast have been dishonored. But
Guenever had full leisure to repent the haste with which
she had given credit to the tale. Three days elapsed,
during which Launcelot wandered without knowing
where he went, till at last he began to reflect that his
mistress had doubtless been deceived by misrepresen-
tation, and that it was his duty to set her right. He

THE LADY OF SHALOTT 441

therefore returned, compelled Maleagans to release his
prisoners, and, taking the road by which they expected
the arrival of Sir Gawain, had the satisfaction of meet-
ing him the next day ; after which the whole company
proceeded gayly towards Camelot.

CHAPTER X

THE LADY OF SHALOTT

King Arthur proclaimed a solemn tournament to be
held at Winchester. The king, not less impatient than
his knights for this festival, set off some days before to
superintend the preparations, leaving the queen with her
court at Camelot. Sir Launcelot, under pretence of in-
disposition, remained behind also. His intention was to
attend the tournament in disguise; and having communi-
cated his project to Guenever, he mounted his horse,
set off without any attendant, and, counterfeiting the
feebleness of age, took the most unfrequented road to
Winchester, and passed unnoticed as an old knight who
was going to be a spectator of the sports. Even Arthur
and Gawain, who happened to behold him from the
windows of a castle under which he passed, were the
dupes of his disguise. But an accident betrayed him.
His horse happened to stumble, and the hero, forget-
ting for a moment his assumed character, recovered the
animal with a strength and agility so peculiar to him-
self, that they instantly recognized the inimitable
Launcelot. They suffered him, however, to proceed on
his journey without interruption, convinced that his ex-
traordinary feats of arms must discover him at the ap-
proaching festival.

In the evening Launcelot was magnificently enter-
tained as a stranger knight at the neighboring castle of
Shalott. The lord of this castle had a daughter of ex-
quisite beauty, and two sons lately received into the
order of knighthood, one of whom was at that time ill
in bed, and thereby prevented from attending the tour-

442 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

nament, for which both brothers had long made prep-
aration. Launcelot offered to attend the other, if he
were permitted to borrow the armor of the invalid, and
the lord of Shalott, without knowing the name of his
guest, being satisfied from his appearance that his son
could not have a better assistant in arms, most thank-
fully accepted the offer. In the meantime the young
lady, who had been much struck by the first appear-
ance of the stranger knight, continued to survey him
with increased attention, and, before the conclusion of
supper, became so deeply enamoured of him, that
after frequent changes of color, and other symptoms
which Sir Launcelot could not possibly mistake, she
was obliged to retire to her chamber, and seek relief
in tears. Sir Launcelot hastened to convey to her, by
means of her brother, the information that his heart
was already disposed of, but that it would be his pride
and pleasure to act as her knight at the approaching
tournament. The lady, obliged to be satisfied with that
courtesy, presented him her scarf to be worn at the
tournament.

Launcelot set off in the morning with the young
knight, who, on their approaching Winchester, carried
him to the castle of a lady, sister to the lord of Shalott,
by whom they were hospitably entertained. The next
day they put on their armor, which was perfectly plain
and without any device, as was usual to youths during
the first year of knighthood, their shields being only
painted red, as some color was necessary to enable them
to be recognized by their attendants. Launcelot wore
on his crest the scarf of the maid of Shalott, and, thus
equipped, proceeded to the tournament, wdiere the
knights were divided into two companies, the one com-
manded by Sir Galehaut, the other by King Arthur.
Having surveyed the combat for a short time from with-
out the lists, and observed that Sir Galehaut's party
began to give way, they joined the press and attacked
the royal knights, the young man choosing such adver-
saries as were suited to his strength, while his com-
panion selected the principal champions of the Round
Table, and successively overthrew Gawain, Bohort, and

THE LADY OF SHALOTT 443

Lionel. The astonishment of the spectators was ex-
treme, for it was thought that no one but Launcelot
could possess such invincible force ; yet the favor on
his crest seemed to preclude the possibility of his being
thus disguised, for Launcelot had never been known to
wear the badge of any but his sovereign lady. At length
Sir Hector, Launcelot's brother, engaged him, and, after
a dreadful combat, wounded him dangerously in the
head, but was himself completely stunned by a blow
on the helmet, and felled to the ground; after which
the conqueror rode off at full speed, attended by his
companion.

They returned to the castle of Shalott, where Launce-
lot was attended with the greatest care by the good earl,
by his two sons, and, above all, by his fair daughter,
whose medical skill probably much hastened the period
of his recovery. His health was almost completely re-
stored, v;hen Sir Hector, Sir Bohort, and Sir Lionel,
who, after the return of the court to Camelot, had
undertaken the quest of their relation, discovered him
walking on the walls of the castle. Their meeting was
very joyful ; they passed three days in the castle amidst
constant festivities, and bantered each other on the
events of the tournament. Launcelot, though he began
by vowing vengeance against the author of his wound,
yet ended by declaring that he felt rewarded for the
pain by the pride he took in witnessing his brother's ex-
traordinary prowess. He then dismissed them with a
message to the queen, promising to follow immediately,
it being necessary that he should first take a formal leave
of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of Shalott.

The young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him
by her tears and solicitations, saw him depart without
leaving her any ground for hope.

It was early summer when the tournament took
place ; but some months had passed since Launcelot's
departure, and winter was now near at hand. The
health and strength of the Lady of Shalott had gradu-
ally sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart
from the object of her affections. She left the castle,
and descending to the river's brink placed herself in a

444 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

boat, which she loosed from its moorings, and suffered
to bear her down the current toward Camelot.

One morning, as Arthur and Sir Lionel looked from
the window of the tower, the walls of which were
washed by a river, they descried a boat richly orna-
m-ented, and covered with an awning of cloth of gold,
which appeared to be floating down the stream with-
out any human guidance. It struck the shore while
they watched it, and they hastened down to examine it.
Beneath the awning they discovered the dead body of
a beautiful woman, in whose features Sir Lionel easily
recognized the lovely maid of Shalott. Pursuing their
search, they discovered a purse richly embroidered with
gold and jewels, and within the purse a letter, which
Arthur opened, and found addressed to himself and all
the knights of the Round Table, stating that Launcelot
of the Lake, the most accomplished of knights and most
beautiful of men, but at the same time the most cruel
and inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death of
the wretched maiden, whose love was no less invincible
than his cruelty. The king immediately gave orders for
the interment of the lady with all the honors suited to
her rank, at the same time explaining to the knights the
history of her affection for Launcelot, which moved
the compasbion and regret of all.

Tennyson has chosen the story of the "Lady of
Shalott" for the subject of a poem. The catastrophe is
told thus :

"Under tower and balcony.
By garden-wall and gallery, /
A gleaming shape she floated by,
A corse between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame.
And round the prow they read her name;

The Lady of Shalott.'

"Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,

QUEEN GUENEVER'S PERIL 445

All the knights at Camelot.
But Launcelot mused a httle space;
He said, 'She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.' "

CHAPTER XI

QUEEN GUENEVER's PERIL

It happened at this time that Queen Guenever was
thrown into great peril of her life. A certain squire
who was in her immediate service, having some cause
of animosity to Sir Gawain, determined to destroy him
by poison, at a public entertainment. For this purpose
he concealed the poison in an apple of fine appearance,
which he placed on the top of several others, and put
the dish before the queen, hoping that, as Sir Gawain
was the knight of greatest dignity, she would present
the apple to him. But it happened that a Scottish knight
of high distinction, who arrived on that day, was seated
next to the queen, and to him as a stranger she pre-
sented the apple, which he had no sooner eaten than he
was seized with dreadful pain, and fell senseless. The
whole court was, of course, thrown into confusion ; the
knights rose from table, darting looks of indignation at
the wretched queen, whose tears and protestations were
unable to remove their suspicions. In spite of all that
could be done the knight died, and nothing remained but
to order a magnificent funeral and monument for him,
which was done.

Some time after Sir Mador, brother of the murdered
knight, arrived at Arthur's court in quest of him.
While hunting in the forest he by chance came to the
spot where the monument was erected, read the in-
scription, and returned to court determined on imme-
diate and signal vengeance. He rode into the hall, loudly
accused the queen of treason, and insisted on her being
given up for punishment, unless she should find by a
certain day a knight hardy enough to risk his life ia

446 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

support of her innocence. Arthur, powerful as he was,
did not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled with
a heavy heart to accept it, and Mador sternly took his
departure, leaving the royal couple plunged in terror and
anxiety.

During all this time Launcelot was absent, and no one
knew where he was. He fled in anger from his fair
mistress, upon being reproached by her with his pas-
sion for the Lady of Shalott, which she had hastily
inferred from his wearing her scarf at the tournament.
He took up his abode with a hermit in the forest, and
resolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, whose
conduct he thought must flow from a wish to get rid
of him. Yet calm reflection had somewhat cooled his
indignation, and he had begun to wish, though hardly
able to hope, for a reconciliation when the news of Sir
Mador's challenge fortunately reached his ears. The
intelligence revived his spirits, and he began to prepare
with the utmost cheerfulness for a contest which, if
successful, would insure him at once the affection of his
mistress and the gratitude of his sovereign.

The sad fate of the Lady of Shalott had ere this com-
pletely acquitted Launcelot in the queen's mind of all
suspicion of his fidelity, and she lamented most griev-
ously her foolish quarrel with him, which now, at her
time of need, deprived her of her most efficient cham-
pion.

As the day appointed by Sir Mador was fast ap-
proaching, it became necessary that she should procure
a champion for her defence ; and she successively ad-
jured Sir Hector, Sir Lionel, Sir Bohort, and Sir Ga-
wain to undertake the battle. Sire fell on her knees
before them, called heaven to witness her innocence of
the crime alleged against her, but was sternly answered
by all that they could not fight to maintain the inno-
cence of one whose act, and the fatal consequence of
it, they had seen with their own eyes. She retired,
therefore, dejected and disconsolate; but the sight of
the fatal pile on which, if guilty, she was doomed to
be burned, exciting her to fresh effort, she again re-
paired to Sir Bohort, threw herself at his feet, and pite-

QUEEN GUENEVER'S PERIL 447

ously calling on him for mercy, fell into a swoon. The
brave knight was not proof against this. He raised her
up, and hastily promised that he would undertake her
cause, if no other or better champion should present
himself. He then summoned his friends, and told them
his resolution ; and as a mortal combat with Sir Mador
was a most fearful enterprise, they agreed to accom-
pany him in the morning to the hermitage in the forest,
where he proposed to receive absolution from the hermit,
and to make his peace with Heaven before he entered
the lists. As they approached the hermitage, they
espied a knight riding in the forest, whom they at once
recognized as Sir Launcelot. Overjoyed at the meet-
ing, they quickly, in answer to his questions, confirmed
the news of the queen's imminent danger, and received
his instructions to return to court, to comfort her as
well as they could, but to say nothing of his intention of
undertaking her defence, which he meant to do in the
character of an unknown adventurer.

On their return to the castle they found that mass
was finished, and had scarcely time to speak to the queen
before they were summoned into the hall to dinner. A
general gloom was spread over the countenances of all
the guests. Arthur himself was unable to conceal his
dejection, and the wretched Guenever, motionless and
bathed in tears, sat in trembling expectation of Sir Ma-
dor's appearance. Nor was it long ere he stalked into
the hall, and with a voice of thunder, rendered more
impressive by the general silence, demanded instant jus-
tice on the guilty party. Arthur replied with dignity,
that little of the day was yet spent, and that perhaps a
champion might yet be found capable of satisfving his
thirst for battle. Sir Rohort now rose from table, and
shortly returning in complete armor, resumed his place,
after receiving the emibraces and thanks of the king,
who now began to resume some degree of confidence.
Sir Mador, growing impatient, again repeated his de-
nunciations of vengeance, and insisted that the combat
should no longer be postponed.

In the height of the debate there came riding into the
hall a knight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black

448 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

armor, with his visor down, and lance in hand. "Sir,"
said the king-, "is it your will to alight and partake of
our cheer?" "Nay, sir," he replied; "I come to save
a lady's life. The queen hath ill bestowed her favors,
and honored many a knight, that in her hour of need
she should have none to take her part. Thou that darest
accuse her of treachery, stand forth, for to-day shalt
thou need all thy might."

Sir Mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the
stern challenge and formidable appearance of his antag-
onist, but prepared for the encounter. At the first shock
both were unhorsed. They then drew their swords, and
commenced a combat which lasted from noon till eve-
ning, when Sir Mador, whose strength began to fail, was
felled to the ground by Launcelot, and compelled to sue
for mercy. The victor, whose arm was already raised to
terminate the life of his opponent, instantly dropped his
sword, courteously lifted up the fainting Sir Mador,
frankly confessing that he had never before encountered
so formidable an enemy. The other, with similar court-
esy, solemnly renounced all further projects of ven-
geance for his brother's death; and the two knights, now
become fast friends, embraced each other with the great-
est cordiality. In the meantime Arthur, having recog-
nized Sir Launcelot, whose helmet was now unlaced,
rushed down into the lists, followed by all his knights,
to welcome and thank his deliverer. Guenever swooned
with joy, and the place of combat suddenly exhibited a
scene of the most tumultuous delight.

The general satisfaction was still further increased by
the discovery of the real culprit, paving accidentally
incurred some suspicion, he confessed his crime, and was
publicly punished in the presence of Sir Mador.

The court now returned to the castle, which, with the
title of "La Joyeuse Garde" bestowed upon it in memory
of the happy event, was conferred on Sir Launcelot by
Arthur, as a memorial of his gratitude.

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 449

CHAPTER XII

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE

Meliadus was king of Leonois, or Lionesse, a
country famous in the annals of romance, which ad-
joined the kingdom of Cornwall, but has now disap-
peared from the map, having been, it is said, over-
whelmed by the ocean. Meliadus was married to
Isabella, sister of Mark, king of Cornwall. A fairy fell
in love with him, and drew him away by enchantment
while he was engaged in hunting. His queen set out in
quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died,
leaving an infant son, whom, from the melancholy cir-
cumstances of his birth, she called Tristram.

Gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied
her, took charge of the child, and restored him to his
father, who had at length burst the enchantments of the
fairy, and returned home.

Meliadus after seven years married again, and the
new queen, being jealous of the influence of Tristram
with his father, laid plots for his life, which were dis-
covered by Gouvernail, who in consequence fled with
the boy to the court of the king of France, where Tris-
tram was kindly received, and grew up improving in
every gallant and knightly accomplishment, adding to
his skill in arms the arts of music and of chess. In par-
ticular, he devoted himself to the chase and to all wood-
land sports, so that he became distinguished above all
other chevaliers of the court for his knowledge of all
that relates to hunting. No wonder that Belinda, the
king's daughter, fell in love with him ; but as he did not
return her passion, she, in a sudden impulse of anger,
excited her father against him, and he was banished the
kingdom. The princess soon repented of her act, and in
despair dcstroyefl herself, having first written a most
tender letter to Tristram, sending him at the same time
a beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was very
fond, desiring him to keep it as a memorial of her.

450 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

Meliadus was now dead, and as his queen, Tristram's
stepmother, held the throne, Gouvernail was afraid to
carry his pupil to his native country, and took him to
Cornwall, to his uncle Mark, who gave him a kind re-
ception.

King Mark resided at the castle of Tintadel, already
mentioned in the history of Uther and Igerne. In this
court Tristram became distinguished in all the exercises
incumbent on a knight ; nor was it long before he had
an opportunity of practically employing his valor and
skill. Moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to the
queen of Ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute
of King Mark. The knights of Cornwall are in ill re-
pute in romance for their cowardice, and they exhibited
it on this occasion. King Mark could find no champion
who dared to encounter the Irish knight, till his nephew
Tristram, who had not yet received the honors of knight-
hood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at the
same time to fight the battle of Cornwall against the
Irish champion. King Mark assented with reluctance;
Tristram received the accolade, which conferred knight-
hood upon him, and the place and time were assigned
for the encounter.

Without attempting to give the details of this famous
combat, the first and one of the most glorious of Tris-
tram's exploits, we shall only say that the young knight
though severely wounded, cleft the head of Moraunt
leaving a portion of his sword in the wound. Moraunt
\ialf dead with his wound and the disgrace of his defeat
hastened to hide himself in his ship, sailed away with
all speed for Ireland, and died soon after arriving in
his own country.

The kingdom of Cornwall was thus delivered from
its tribute. Tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell
senseless. His friends flew to his assistance. They
dressed his wounds, which in general healed readily ;
but the lance of Moraunt was poisoned, and one
wound which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew
worse day by day. The surgeons could do no more.
Tristram asked permission of his uncle to depart, and
seek for aid in the kingdom of Loegria (England).

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 451

With his consent he embarked, and after tossing for
many days on the sea, was driven by the winds to the
coast of Ireland. He landed, full of joy and gratitude
that he had escaped the peril of the sea; took his rote,^
and began to play. It was a summer evening, and the
king of Ireland and his daughter, the beautiful Isoude,
were at a window which overlooked the sea. The
strange harper was sent for, and conveyed to the pal-
ace, where, finding that he was in Ireland, whose cham-
pion he had lately slain, he concealed his name, and
called himself Tramtris. The queen undertook his
cure, and by a medicated bath gradually restored him
to health. His skill in music and in games occasioned
his being frequently called to court, and he became the
instructor of the princess Isoude in minstrelsy and
poetry, who profited so well under his care, that she soon
had no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor.

At this time a tournament was held, at which many
knights of the Round Table, and others, were present.
On the first day a Saracen prince, named Palamedes,
obtained the advantage over all. They brought him to
the court, and gave him a feast, at which Tristram, just
recovering from his wound, was present. The fair
Isoude appeared on this occasion in all her charms.
Palamedes could not behold them without emotion, and
made no effort to conceal his love. Tristram perceived
it, and the pain he felt from jealousy taught him how
dear the fair Isoude had already become to him.

Next day the tournament was renewed. Tristram,
still feeble from his wound, rose during the night, took
his arms, and concealed them in a forest near the place
of the contest, and, after it had begun, mingled with
the combatants. He overthrew all that encountered him,
in particular Palamedes, whom he brought to the ground
with a stroke of his lance, and then fought him hand
to hand, bearing ofif the prize of the tourney. But his
exertions caused his wound to reopen ; he bled fast,
and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they bore him
to the palace. The fair Isoude devoted herself to his
relief with an interest which grew more vivid day by

1 A musical instrument.

452 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

day; and her skilful care soon restored him to health.

It happened one day that a damsel of the court, en-
tering the closet where Tristram's arms were deposited,
perceived that a part of the sword had been broken off.
It occurred to her that the missing portion was like
that which was left in the skull of Moraunt. the Irish
champion. She imparted her thought to the queen, who
compared the fragment taken from her brother's wound
with the sword of Tristram, and was satisfied that it
was part of the same, and that the weapon of Tristram
was that which reft her brother's life. She laid her
griefs and resentment before the king, who satisfied him-
self with his own eyes of the truth of her suspicions.
Tristram was cited before the whole court, and re-
proached with having dared to present himself before
them after having slain their kinsman. He acknowl-
edged that he had fought with Moraunt to settle the
claim for tribute, and said that it w^as by force of winds
and waves alone that he was thrown on their coast. The
queen demanded vengeance for the death of her brother ;
the fair Isoude trembled and grew pale, but a mur-
mur rose from all the assembly that the life of one so
handsome and so brave should not be taken for such a
cause, and generosity finally triumphed over resentment
in the mind of the king. Tristram was dismissed m
safety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without
delay, and never to return thither under pain of death.
Tristram went back, with restored health, to Cornwall.

King Mark made his nephew give him a minute re-
cital of his adventures. Tristram told him all minutely;
but when he came to speak of the /fair Isoude he de-
scribed her charms with a warmth and energy such as
none but a lover could display. King Mark was fas-
cinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable
time, demanded a boon^ of his nephew, who readily

^ " Good faith was the very corner-stone of chivalry. Whenever a
knight's word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly) it was to be re-
deemed at any price. Hence the sacred obligation of the boon granted by a
knight to. his suppliant. Instances without number occur in romance, in
which a knight, by rashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or
suffer something extremely to his prejudice. But it is not in romance
alone that we find such singular instances of adherence to a,i indefinite
promise. The history of the times presents authentic transactions equally
embarrassing and absurd." Scott, note to Sir Tristram.

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 453

granted it. The king made him swear upon the holy
reliques that he would fulfil his commands. Then Mark
directed him to go to Ireland, and obtain for him the
fair Isoude to be queen of Cornwall.

Tristram believed it was certain death for him to re-
turn to Ireland; and how could he act as ambassador
for his uncle in such a cause? Yet, bound by his oath,
he hesitated not for an instant. He only took the pre-
caution to change his armor. He embarked for Ireland;
but a tempest drove him to the coast of England, near
Camelot, where King Arthur was holding his court,
attended by the knights of the Round Table, and many
others, the most illustrious in the world.

Tristram kept himself unknown. He took part in
many justs ; he fought many combats, in which he cov-
ered himself with glory. One day he saw among those
recently arrived the king of Ireland, father of the fair
Isoude. This prince, accused of treason against his liege
sovereign, Arthur, came to Camelot to free himself from
the charge. Blaanor, one of the most redoubtable war-
riors of the Round Table, was his accuser, and Argius,
the king, had neither youthful vigor nor strength to en-
counter him. He must therefore seek a champion to
sustain his innocence. But the knights of the Round
Table were not at liberty to fight against one another,
unless in a quarrel of their own. Argius heard of the
great renown of the unknown knight; he also was wit-
ness of his exploits. He sought him, and conjured him
to adopt his defence, and on his oath declared that he
was innocent of the crime of which he was accused.
Tristram readily consented, and made himself known to
the king, who on his part promised to reward his ex-
ertions, if successful, with whatever gift he might ask.

Tristram fought with Blaanor, and overthrew him,
and held his life in his power. The fallen warrior
called on him to use his right of conquest, and strike
the fatal blow. "God forbid," said Tristram, "that I
should take the life of so brave a knight !" He raised
him up and restored him to his friends. The judges of
the field decided that the king of Ireland was acquitted
of the charge against him, and they led Tristram in

454 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

triumph to his tent. King Argius, full of gratitude, con-
jured Tristram to accompany him to his kingdom. They
departed together, and arrived in Ireland; and the queen,
forgetting her resentment for her brother's death, ex-
hibited to the preserver of her husband's life nothing
but gratitude and good-w^ill.

How happy a moment for Isoude, who knew that her
father had promised his deliverer whatever boon he
might ask ! But the unhappy Tristram gazed on her
with despair, at the thought of the cruel oath which
bound him. His magnanimous soul subdued the force
of his love. He revealed the oath which he had taken,
and with trembling voice demanded the fair Isoude for
his uncle.

Argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the
departure of Isoude. Brengwain, her favorite maid of
honor, was to accompany her. On the day of departure
the queen took aside this devoted attendant, and told
her that she had observed that her daughter and Tris-
tram were attached to one another, and that to avert the
bad effects of this inclination she had procured from a
powerful fairy a potent philter (love-draught), which
she directed Brengwain to administer to Isoude and to
King Mark on the evening of their marriage.

Isoude and Tristram embarked together. A favorable
wind filled the sails, and promised them a fortunate
voyage. The lovers gazed upon one another, and could
not repress their sighs. Love seemed to light up all his
fires on their lips, as in their hearts. The day was warm;
they suffered from thirst. Isoude first complained.
Tristram descried the bottle containing the love-draught,
which Brengwain had been so imprudent as to leave in
sight. He took it, gave some of it to the charming
Isoude, and drank the remainder himself. The dog
Houdain licked the cup. The ship arrived in Cornwall,
and Isoude was married to King Mark. The old mon-
arch was delighted with his bride, and his gratitude to
Tristram was unbounded. He loaded him with honors,
and made him chamberlain of his palace, thus giving him
access to the queen at all times.

In the midst of the festivities of the court which

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 455

followed the royal marriage, an unknown minstrel one
day presented himself, bearing a harp of peculiar con-
struction. He excited the curiosity of King Mark by
refusing to play upon it till he should grant him a
boon. The king having promised to grant his request,
the minstrel, who was none other than the Saracen
knight, Sir Palamedes, the lover of the fair Isoude,
sung to the harp a lay. in which he demanded Isoude
as the promised gift. King Mark could not by the laws
of knighthood withhold the boon. The lady was mount-
ed on her horse, and led away by her triumphant lover.
Tristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time,
and did not return until their departure. When he
heard what had taken place he seized his rote, and
hastened to the shore, where Isoude and her new mas-
ter had already embarked. Tristram played upon his
rote, and the sound reached the ears of Isoude, who
became so deeply affected, that Sir Palamedes was in-
duced to return with her to land, that they might see
the unknown musician. Tristram watched his oppor-
tunity, seized the lady's horse by the bridle, and plunged
with her into the forest, tauntingly informing his rival
that "what he had got by the harp he had lost by the
rote." Palamedes pursued, and a combat was about to
commence, the result of which must have been fatal to
one or other of these gallant knights ; but Isoude stepped
between them, and, addressing Palamedes, said, "You
tell me that you love me ; you will not then deny me
che request I am about to make?" "Lady," he re-
plied, "I will perform your bidding." "Leave, then,"
said she, "this contest, and repair to King Arthur's
court, and salute Queen Guenever from me ; tell her
that there are in the world but two ladies, herself and
I, and two lovers, hers and mine; and come thou not in
future in any place where I am." Palamedes burst into
tears. "Ah, lady," said he, "I will obey you; but I be-
seech you that you will not for ever steel your heart
against me." "Palamedes," she replied, "may I never
taste of joy again if I ever quit my first love." Pala-
medes then went his way. The lovers remained a week
in concealment, after which Tristram restored Isoude to

456 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

her husband, advising him in future to reward min-
strels in some other way.

The king showed much gratitude to Tristram, but
in the bottom of his heart he cherished bitter jealousy
of him. One day Tristram and Isoude were alone to-
gether in her private chamber. A base and cowardly
knight of the court, named Andret, spied them through
a keyhole. They sat at a table of chess, but were
not attending to the game. Andret brought the king,
having first raised his suspicions, and placed him so as
to watch their motions. The king saw enough to con-
firm his suspicions, and he burst into the apartment with
his sword drawn, and had nearly slain Tristram be-
fore he was put on his guard. But Tristram avoided
the blow, drew his sword, and drove" before him the
cowardly monarch, chasing him through all the apart-
ments of the palace, giving him frequent blows with
the flat of his sword, while he cried in vain to his knights
to save him. They were not inclined, or did not dare,
to interpose in his behalf.

A proof of the great popularity of the tale of Sir
Tristram is the fact that the Italian poets, Boiardo and
Ariosto, have founded upon it the idea of the two en-
chanted fountains, which produced the opposite effectr.
of love and hatred. Boiardo thus describes the foun-
tain of hatred :

"Fair was that fountain, sculptured all of gold,
With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;
And in its basin clear thou might'st behold
The flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.
Sage Merhn framed the font, so legends bear,
When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,
That the good errant knight, arriving there.
Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave.
And leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave.

'But ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed
His steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain.
Though restless, roving on adventure proud,
He traversed oft the land and oft the main."

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 457

CHAPTER XIII
TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE (Continued)

After this affair Tristram was banished from the
kingdom, and Isoude shut up in a tower, which stood
on the bank of a river. Tristram could not resolve to
depart without some further communication with his be-
loved; so he concealed himself in the forest, till at last
he contrived to attract her attention, by means of twigs
which he curiously peeled, and sent down the stream
under her window. By this means many secret in-
terviews were obtained. Tristram dwelt in the forest,
sustaining himself by game, which the dog Houdain
ran down for him ; for this faithful animal was un-
equalled in the chase, and knew so well his master's
wish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game,
he never barked. At length Tristram depa^^ted, but left
Houdain with Isoude, as a remembrancer of him.

Sir Tristram wandered through various countries,
achieving the most perilous enterprises, and covering
himself with glory, yet unhappy at the separation from
his beloved Isoude. At length King Mark's territory
was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he was
forced to summon his nephew to his aid. Tristram
obeyed the call, put himself at the head of his uncle's
vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. Mark
was full of gratitude, and Tristram, restored to favor
and to the society of his beloved Isoude, seemed at the
sunmiit of happiness. But a sad reverse was at hand.

Tristram had brought with him a friend named
Pheredin, son of the king of Brittany. This young
knight saw Queen Isoude, and could not resist her
charms. Knowing the love of his friend for the queen,
and that that love was returned, Pheredin concealed his
own, until his health failed, and he feared he was draw-
ing near his end. He then wrote to the beautiful queen
that he was dying for love of her.

The gentle Isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend

458 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

of Tristram, returned him an answer so kind and com-
passionate that it restored him to Hfe. A few days
afterwards Tristram found this letter. The most ter-
rible jealousy took possession of his soul ; he would have
slain Pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape.
Then Tristram mounted his horse, and rode to the forest,
where for ten days he took no rest nor food. At length
he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the
brink of a fountain. She recognized him, and tried in
vain to rouse his attention. At last recollecting his love
for music she went and got her harp, and played there-
on. Tristram was roused from his reverie ; tears flowed ;
he breathed more freely ; he took the harp from the
maiden, and sung this lay, Avith a voice broken with
sobs:

"Sweet I sang in former days,
Kind love perfected my lays :
Now my art alone displays
The woe that on my being preys.

"Charming love, delicious power,
Worshipped from my earliest hour,
Thou who life on all dost shower,
Love! my Hfe thou dost devour.

"In death's hour I beg of thee,
Isoude, dearest enemy,
Thou who erst couldst kinder be,
When I'm gone, forget not me.

"On my gravestone passers-by
Oft will read, as low I lie,
'Never wight in love could vie
With Tristram, yet she let him die.' "

/

Tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and
gave it to the damsel, conjuring her to present it to the
queen.

Meanwhile Queen Isoude was inconsolable at the ab-
sence of Tristram. She discovered that it was caused
by the fatal letter which she had written to Pheredin.
Innocent, but in despair at the sad effects of her let-
ter, she wrote another to Pheredin, charging him never
to see her again. The unhappy lover obeyed this cruel

1

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 459

decree. He plunged into the forest, and died of grief
and love in a hermit's cell.

Isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and
unknown fate of Tristram. One day her jealous hus-
band, having entered her chamber unperceived, over-
heard her singing the following lay :

"My voice to piteous wail is bent,
My harp to notes of languishment;
Ah, love ! delightsome days be meant
For happier wights, with hearts content.

"Ah, Tristram ! far away from me.
Art thou from restless anguish free?
Ah ! couldst thou so one moment be.
From her who so much loveth thee?"

The king hearing these v/ords burst forth in a rage ;
but Isoude was too wretched to fear his violence. "You
have heard me," she said ; "I confess it all. I love
Tristram, and always shall love him. Without doubt he
is dead, and died for me. I no longer wish to live.
The blow that shall finish my misery will be most wel-
come."

The king was moved at the distress of the fair Isoude,
and perhaps the idea of Tristram's death tended to allay
his wrath. He left the queen in charge of her women,
commanding them to take especial care lest her despair
should lead her to do harm to herself.

Tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered
a most important service to the shepherds by slaying a
gigantic robber named Taullas, who was in the habil
of plundering their flocks and rifling their cottages.
The shepherds, in their gratitude to Tristram, bore him
in triumph to King Mark to have him bestow on him a
suitable reward. No wonder Mark failed to recognize
in the half-clad, wild man, before him his nephew
Tristram ; but grateful for the service the unknown had
rendered he ordered him to be well taken care of, and
gave him in charge to the queen and her women. Under
such care Tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his
health, so that the romancer tells us he became hand-
somer than ever. King Mark's jealousy revived with

460 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

Tristram's health and good looks, and, in spite of his
debt of gratitude so lately increased, he again banished
him from the court.

Sir Tristram left Cornwall, and proceeded into the
land of Loegria (England) in quest of adventures. One
day he entered a wide forest. The sound of a little bell
showed him that some inhabitant was near. He fol-
lowed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed
him that he was in the forest of Arnantes, belonging to
the fairy Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, who, smitten
with love for King Arthur, had found means to entice
him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him
a prisoner, having deprived him of all memory of who
and what he was. The hermit informed him that all the
knights of the Round Table were out in search of the
king, and that he (Tristram) was now in the scene of
the most grand and important adventures.

This was enough to animate Tristram in the search.
He had not wandered far before he encountered a knight
of Arthur's court, who proved to be Sir Kay the
Seneschal, who demanded of him whence he came. Tris-
tram answering, "From Cornwall," Sir Kay did not let
slip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the
Cornish knight. Tristram chose to leave him in his
error, and even confirmed him in it; for meeting some
other knights Tristram declined to just with them.
They spent the night together at an abbey, where Tris-
tram submitted patiently to all their jokes. The Sene-
schal gave the word to his companions that they should
set out early next day, and intercept the Cornish knight
on his way, and enjoy the amusement of seeing his
fright when they should insist on running a tilt with
him. Tristram next morning found himself alone ; he
put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest.
He soon saw before him the Seneschal and the three
knights, who barred the way, and insisted on a just.
Tristram excused himself a long time; at last he re-
luctantly took his stand. He encountered them, one
after the other, and overthrew them all four, man and
horse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget
their friend, the knight of Cornwall.

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 461

Tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel,
who cried out, "Ah, my lord ! hasten forward, and pre-
vent a horrid treason !" Tristram flew to her assistance,
and soon reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom
three others had borne to the ground, and were un-
lacing his helmet in order to cut off his head.

Tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke
of his lance one of the assailants. The knight, recov-
ering his feet, sacrificed another to his vengeance, and
the third made his escape. The rescued knight then
raised the visor of his helmet, and a long white beard
fell down upon his breast. The majesty and vener-
able air of this knight made Tristram suspect that it
was none other than Arthur himself, and the prince
confirmed his conjecture. Tristram would have knelt
before him, but Arthur received him in his arms, and
inquired his name and country ; but Tristram declined
to disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest
requiring secrecy. At this moment the damsel who had
brought Tristram to the rescue darted forward, and,
seizing the king's hand, drew from his finger a ring,
the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved the en-
chantment. Arthur, having recovered his reason and his
memory, offered to Tristram to attach him to his court,
and to confer honors and dignities upon him ; but Tris-
tram declined all, and only consented to accompany him
till he should see him safe in the hands of his knights.
Soon after. Hector de Marys rode up, and saluted the
king, who on his part introduced him to Tristram as
one of the bravest of his knights. Tristram took leave
of the king and his faithful follower, and continued his
quest.

We cannot follow Tristram through all the adven-
tures which filled this epoch of his history. Suffice it
to say, he fulfilled on all occasions the duty of a true
knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abol-
ishing evil customs, and suppressing injustice, thus by
constant action endeavoring to lighten the pains of ab-
sence from her he loved. In the meantime Isoude, sep-
arated from her dear Tristram, passed her days in
languor and regret. At length she could no longer re-

462 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

sist the desire to hear some news of her lover. She
wrote a letter, and sent it by one of her damsels, niece
of her faithful Brengwain. One day Tristram, weary
with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself
down by the side of a fountain and fallen asleep. The
damsel of Queen Isoude arrived at the same fountain,
and recognized Passebreul, the horse of Tristram, and
presently perceived his master asleep. He was thin
and pale, showing evident marks of the pain he suf-
fered in separation from his beloved. She awakened
him, and gave him the letter which she bore, and Tris-
tram enjoyed the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of
hearing from and talking about the object of his affec-
tions. He prayed the damsel to postpone her return till
after the magnificent tournament which Arthur had pro-
claimed should have taken place, and conducted her to
the castle of Persides, a brave and loyal knight, who re-
ceived her with great consideration.

Tristram conducted the damsel of Queen Isoude to
the tournament, and had her placed in the balcony
among the ladies of the queen.

"He glanced and saw the stately galleries,
Dame, damsel, each through worship of their Queen
White-robed in honor of the stainless child,
And some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank
Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.
He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again."

The Last Tournament.

He then joined the tourney. Nothing could exceed his
strength and valor. Launcelot admired him, and by a
secret presentiment declined to dispute the honor of the
day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. Arthur de-
scended from the balcony to greet the conqueror; but
the modest and devoted Tristram, content with having
borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger of
Isoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared.

The next day the tourney recommenced. Tristram
assumed different armor, that he might not be known ;
but he was soon detected by the terrible blows that
he gave. Arthur and Guenever had no doubt that it
was the same knight who had borne off the prize of

TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE 463

the day before. Arthur's gallant spirit was roused.
After Launcelot of the Lake and Sir Gawain he was
accounted the best knight of the Round Table. He
went privately and armed himself, and came into the
tourney in undistinguished armor. He ran a just with
Tristram, whom he shook in his seat ; but Tristram, who
did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. Arthur
recovered himself, and content with having made proof
of the stranger knight bade Launcelot finish the adven-
ture, and vindicate the honor of the Round Table. Sir
Launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed Tris-
tram, whose lance was already broken in former en-
counters. But the law of this sort of combat was that
the knight after having broken his lance must fight with
his sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield
the lance of his antagonist. Tristram met Launcelot's
charge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could
not fail to pierce. It inflicted a wound upon Tristram's
side, and, breaking, left the iron in tlie wound. But
Tristram also with his sword smote so vigorously on
Launcelot's casque that he cleft it, and wounded his
head. The wound was not deep, but the blood flowed
into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and Tris-
tram, who thought himself mortally wounded, retired
from the field. Launcelot declared to the king that
he had never received such a blow in his life before.

Tristram hastened to Gouvernail, his squire, who drew
forth the iron, bound up the wound, and gave him im-
mediate ease. Tristram after the tournament kept re-
tired in his tent, but Arthur, with the consent of all the
knights of the Round Table, decreed him the honors of
the second day. But it was no longer a secret that the
victor of the two days was the same indi\idual, and
Gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the suspicions
of Launcelot and Arthur that it was no other than Sir
Tristram, of Leonais, the nephew of the king of Corn-
wall.

King Arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished
valor, and knew that his Uncle Mark had ungratefully
banished him, would have eagerly availed himself of
the opportunity to attach Tristram to his court, all the

464 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS

knights of the Round Table declaring with acclamation
that it would be impossible to find a more worthy com-
panion. But Tristram had already departed in search
of adventures, and the damsel of Queen Isoude returned
to her mistress.

CHAPTER XIV
SIR Tristram's battle with sir launcelot

Sir Tristram rode through a forest and saw ten men

fighting, and one man did battle against nine. So he
rode to the knights and cried to them, bidding them
cease their battle, for they did themselves great shame,
so many knights to fight against one. Then answered
the master of the knights (his name was Sir Breuse sans
Pitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight
living) : "Sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with
us? If ye be wise depart on your way as you came,
for this knight shall not escape us." "That were pity,"
said Sir Tristram, "that so good a knight should be
slain so cowardly; therefore I warn you I will succor
him with all my puissance."

Then Sir Tristram alighted off his horse, because they
were on foot, that they should not slay his horse. And
he smote on the right hand and on the left so vigorously
that well-nigh at every stroke he struck down a knight.
At last they fled, with Breuse sans Pitie, into the tower,
and shut Sir Tristram without the gate. Then Sir
Tristram returned back to the rescued knight, and found
him sitting under a tree, sore wourlded. "Fair knight,"
said he. "how is it with you?" "Sir knight," said Sir
Palamedes, for he it was, "I thank you of your great
goodness, for ye have rescued me from death." "What
is your name?" said Sir Tristram. He said, "My name
is Sir Palamedes." "Say ye so?" said Sir Tristram;
"now know that thou art the man in the world that 1
most hate ; therefore make thee ready, for I will do bat-
tle with thee." "What is your name?" said Sir Pala-
medes. "My name is Sir Tristram, yotir mortal enemy."

jLz^J^uX-i :^L J..'.

THE ROUND TABLE.

From a photograph. This supposed relic of King Arthur and his Knights now
hangs in the CJreat Hall ol the Castle of Winchester (Camelp-'

SIR GALAHAD.
From painting by George Frederick Watts.

TRISTRAM'S BATTLE WITH LAUNCELOT 465

"It may be so," said Sir Palamedes ; "but you have done
overmuch for me this day, that I should fight with you.
Moreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do
with me, for you are fresh and I am wounded. There-
fore, if you will needs have to do with me, assign
me a day, and I shall meet you without fail." "You
say well," said Sir Tristram; "now I assign you to meet
me in the meadow by the river of Camelot, where Mer-
lin set the monument." So they were agreed. Then
they departed and took their ways diverse. Sir Tristram
passed through a great forest into a plain, till he came
to a priory, and there he reposed him with a good- man
six days.

Then departed Sir Tristram, and rode straight into
Camelot to the monument of Merlin, and there he
looked about him for Sir Palamedes. And he perceived
a seemly knight, who came riding against him all in
white, with a covered shield. When he came nigh Sir
Tristram said aloud, "Welcome, sir knight, and well
and truly have you kept your promise." Then they
made ready their shields and spears, and came together
with all the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both
the horses and the knights fell to the earth. And as
soon as they might they